


Blood Will Have Blood

by Mustardlover16



Series: Nightwing and Flamebird [2]
Category: Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12523484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustardlover16/pseuds/Mustardlover16
Summary: Damian Wayne and Dick Grayson are finally settling into their new routine in Bludhaven after reforming their old partnership with a few new twists. Everything seems to be going well until Damian’s mother- Talia Al Ghul- decides to take matters into her own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

"Remind me why I'm sitting in a smelly old Patrol car with a man who hasn't been dry since Bush was in office?" Damian groaned, breathing through his mouth hoping to avoid the stench traveling from the drunk man passed out in the back of his older brother's radio car. It wasn't working. His nostrils stung from the odor and his eyes were watering. The guy pretty much stunk up the whole car, even with the windows rolled down and the air conditioner blasting on high. How was Dick not gagging?

"Well, Damian, I thought it might be more fun to spend your birthday with your big brother, doing some police work rather than sitting at home alone doing school work," Dick said, cheerfully ignoring Damian's negativity. He knew the boy was secretly very pleased to be spending the day on Dick's beat.

"Hardly. Think again, brother." Damian kicked his feet onto the dashboard and crossed his arms to show his disapproval.

Dick rolled his eyes playfully as he made his way back to the central precinct to book their latest delinquent. Dick had seen the excitement in Damian's eyes when he had announced that Damian would be riding along with him all day. He had also noted the rapt attention which Damian focused on each scene they rolled up on. Damian could fake it all he wanted- Dick knew the real truth. Damian was loving every minute of it. Dick punched his code into the keypad, opening the garage door which led into the center of the precinct- and also to the jail.

As he slowly pulled in behind a couple of other patrol cars who were also transporting suspects, Dick snuck a glance at Damian. The boy had been genuinely surprised that Dick had remembered his birthday- and even more shocked that Dick planned to celebrate it. The thought made Dick sad. The kid had probably never had a real birthday in his life. Well, Dick thought, who better to show him what he's been missing than me?

"Alright Damian," Dick said, putting the car in park and stepping out of the patrol car. We're about to book him. Remember what for?"

"Open container in a public area and public indecency," Damian acknowledged, nose scrunching in disgust as he remembered the quite unfortunate scene they had rolled up on.

"That's right," Dick praised as he headed to the back of his squad car. He unlatched his service weapon from his belt, locking it in a small metal box which lay in the trunk of the car. "Got anything sharp on you? It can't go into the jail."

Just as Dick suspected, Damian pulled a small pocket knife from his pants pocket and chunked it into the lock box. Dick raised an eyebrow. Internally cursing, Damian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a set of brass knuckles, adding them to the lock box.

"Geez, Dami. What do you have those for?" Dick eyed the nasty studded things as he closed the lid and headed for the back seat, where their arrestee was passed out. Damian responded at the same time Dick guessed, "Rule number one: Always be prepared."

Damian nodded sharply in agreement. He watched as his brother helped the man out of the back of the car and guided him swiftly but not unkindly to the doors of the jail. They were buzzed in by a guard and passed through two more doors before they made it to the booking room. He was made to wait behind a line while his brother and a few of the jail workers began the process of booking the soon to be inmate who- despite his drunkenness- clearly knew the routine.

The room smelled of bleach and contained very little. Against the far wall, a desk worker sat, filing paperwork behind a glass screen. She probably handled all the booking paperwork. In the far left corner another worker sat behind another glass screen, but this one had a sizable hole through which officers were sliding sealed plastic bags- the personal belongings which were taken off suspects before they were placed in cells beyond yet another door in the far right corner. In the middle of the room, a long counter stretched. It stood taller than a normal table but lower than a bar counter, comfortable enough to use as a writing surface and to provide distance between police and suspects. All the police stood with their backs to the door, on the opposite side of the counter of their suspects whom were made to empty their pockets, remove their shoelaces and strip off jackets. Guards monitored and patted them down, ensuring that they had kept nothing harmful.

Damian refocused on his older brother. Dick seemed to be trying to sooth the man he had arrested, telling him he'd probably only spend a few days in jail and that he wasn't trying to 'jam up' the still wasted man. When the man's belongings had been properly collected and his paperwork filed, Dick clapped the disheveled man on the shoulder and told him to 'hang in there'. The boys nodded to the guard and exited, walking to the back of the car to retrieve their weapons.

They pulled out of the station a few minutes later, Dick asking Damian where he'd like to stop for lunch. Damian named a local favorite of his, Niko's Greek restaurant. They made killer falafel. Soon the boys were in the patrol car- which now smelled of take out, rather than dumpster divers, much to Damian's relief- munching on their food as Dick wrote a brief report about the arrest they had just made.

The rest of the day was much of the same- Damian watched Dick give out a few speeding tickets, ban a rather disturbed woman from a sandwich place she had terrorized, and acted as back up on a few other calls which his fellow officers had requested assistance on. On the surface, Damian had first thought that much of the work was a little less than heroic- not the harrowing, gunslinging adventure he had imagined- but he supposed it wasn't all bad. Clearly, his brother did a lot to help people, even if it wasn't all bold acts of bravery, and it did ease the slight worry he felt for his brother every time he donned the vest and badge. It was enough that his big brother wore a one piece and fought crime at night- his big brother just HAD to be a cop and put himself in the line of fire at work too. What a bleeding heart.

They wrapped up the day at Dick's precinct- the East Precinct of Bludhaven. Damian waited in the conference room while Dick changed out of his work uniform. A few of Grayson's fellow officers nodded at Damian or pointed in his direction while in conversation with each other. Damian wondered if all the adoptive children of Bruce Wayne had had to suffer the same annoying popularity. Damian was sure that there were much more serious journalistic inquiries to be made in the world than a supposed playboy billionaire and his penchant for adopting charity cases. Dick reentered the room and lead the way back to his motorcycle which was parked in a private lot reserved for police officers.

Damian threw his leg over the seat and buckled on a helmet at Dick's insistence but refused the older man's teasing offer to let Damian wrap his arms around Dick's waist. As the two wove through the streets of Bludhaven, Damian kept a keen, wandering eye on the city. After three months here, he was actually starting to appreciate the city. They flew past restaurants that he enjoyed, stores that he frequented with Dick. They passed schools that Damian had considered enrolling in and parks that Dick and his girlfriend Starfire (under heavy disguise) often spent time in. The city was nothing like Gotham. Rather than a cramped, high rise metropolis (not capital M, mind you- he would never be caught dead defending the home of Clark and Jon Kent) Bludhaven was a spread out industrial city on the coast.

Soon Dick was pulling into the parking space allotted for him by the apartment complex. He was smiling brightly, his eyes twinkling. Although this irritatingly optimistic expression wasn't uncommon on Dick, Damian wondered if it wasn't just slightly more emphatic than usual.

Dick called the elevator down, stepping in when the doors opened. "What do you want for dinner?" Dick asked, passing a keycard through a card reader which granted him permission to their loft.

"Why do I have to make all the food choices today?" Damian grunted, unused to such attention. No one had ever gone out of their way to spend a whole day with him on his birthday. If he spent that much time with one of his parents, it was in training.

"I'm trying to be nice, Damian. It's your birthday. A special day just for you. You get to eat whatever you want."

"Because it's my birthday."

"That's right."

"That's ridiculous."

Dick scrunched his nose in amusement, tilting his head to the side a bit. "Maybe it is. But you know that's never stopped me before."

"Believe me, I know, Grayson. Ridiculous is practically your middle name, if not you job description." Damian taunted, smiling and raising an eyebrow in challenge. Dick simply snorted and ruffled Damian's hair. Dick eyed the elevator. They were almost to the loft and Dick couldn't wait. He had arranged a birthday party the likes of which Damian had never seen. He wanted it to be perfect- Barbara had helped him plan it, so he had high hopes. It was Damian's first 'holiday' at Dick's and he wanted to make it memorable. Despite the fact that Damian was actually a highly intelligent, former assassin turned vigilante, Dick wanted to prove to Damian that life was about more than fighting crime. More than that, he wanted to try to show Damian that being a child wasn't a bad thing- that in fact it was one of the most important things.

The elevator announced their arrival on the proper floor with pleasant hum. The doors opened and the smell of greasy food and sugar wafted toward them along with the pleasant warble of music from Dick's stereo system. Damian's eyes were wide, his muscles tensed before his brain fully took in the sight of the streamers, balloons and the large hand painted sign which read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRAT BOY." Apparently Dick read the sign at the same time Damian did because he muttered, "Seriously, Timmy? I gave you one job. Bat Boy. I said Bat boy."

"Oh, is that what you said? My bad." Tim apologized with a grin, his eyes glittering with mischief.

Damian snarled and launched himself at the older boy. "Drake I will kill you!" Dick, having predicted such a reaction, wrapped his fingers around Damian's ankle as he arched toward the third Robin (now Red Robin). Dick pulled Damian back toward the ground and handed him off to Barbara who had previously been stacking pizzas on the counter. Babs steered Damian away but he watched with great satisfaction as Dick chewed out Tim.

Damian gave the large living room-kitchen a sweep with his eyes. Pizzas, chips, sodas and other snacks filled all available counter space in the kitchen. On the small dining room table a cardboard box sat near a stack of plates- a cake, Damian guessed. As his gaze roved the living room he saw that Barbara and Tim were not the only guests- Jason Todd sat in Dick's Lazy Boy, his feet irreverently planted on the arm of the couch. With a jolt, Damian saw his own father, Bruce Wayne, standing at the far end of the living room. He was in quiet conversation with Alfred, Bruce's long time butler and friend, repressing a small smile as he watched his eldest son berate his third- Tim Drake- for purposely botching the birthday sign.

Damian glanced over his shoulder at Barbara Gordon- the Batgirl. "Hey, kid."

"Barbara. Am I to assume you and Grayson had something to do with this?" Damian gestured to the room.

"You can, if you like." Babs nodded, snatching a slice of pizza from the nearest box.

Damian scanned the room one last time before picking up a paper plate and selecting a slice for himself. "I suppose even though I think this is childish I should thank you, then. Dick says it's the thought that counts."

"No problem, Brat Boy," Barbara laughed slightly, patting his shoulder as she moved to greet Dick. "And Happy Birthday."

Damian was aware of Dick and Babs embracing laughingly as he made his way to where Alfred and Bruce still stood. Upon seeing Damian, Alfred nodded to Bruce and headed for Jason, but not before stooping to Damian's eye level. "Master Damian. Good to see you again."

"And you, Pennyworth." Damian said softly. Besides most of his pets which still resided at Wayne Manor, Damian missed Alfred the most. Quiet and constant, the old man had been something of a comfort to Damian, though he'd never said so out loud.

The butler straightened again, clasping his hands behind his back. "I wish you a very happy birthday, Master Damian."

"Thank you," Damian responded before the older man took his leave. Damian stood there for a second, and stared at his father who, in return was studying Damian.

Dick had spent the past few minutes milling around his apartment, studying the decorations and the food. Barbara had done a fantastic job setting everything up. And aside from the banner, everything had come out perfect. Honestly, he should have expected as much from Tim. Damian and he had a long standing rivalry that Dick was never able to wrap his head around. Dick had been most surprised to see Jason. He and Jason had never been the best of friends (not for lack of trying) and Dick had been unsure that Jason would even open the email that he had sent about the party. It occurred to Dick that Jason might not have, and that his presence might have been the work of Barbara or Tim. Perhaps even Alfred or Bruce. Speaking of Bruce, Dick glanced up. Damian had made his way to Bruce and the two were talking. Dick prayed that Bruce would keep the peace and give Damian one day. Just one. Was that too much to ask?

Damian, meanwhile, stepped up to his father. "Damian"

"Father." Damian tread lightly. Conversations with his father were known to get nasty quickly, and he frankly wasn't in the mood for a nasty exchange. His day had been pleasant- fun even- and Damian was loathe to ruin it. He rarely enjoyed himself as much as he had today.

"How was your ride along?" Bruce asked, eyes darting up to Dick momentarily before returning to his youngest and only blood son.

Damian was taken off guard. For some reason, he hadn't considered that his father had known about it. If anything, Damian thought that Dick had kept it a secret, though on second thought he wasn't sure why he had first arrived upon this conclusion. "It was not entirely eventful."

Bruce chuckled a little at that, somewhat amused and somewhat relieved. "You didn't think I knew about it? I am your legal guardian, Damian. I had to sign the consent form."

Damian blinked. "You did?" His father nodded. "Well...Thanks. It was educational at the very least."

"I'm glad." Bruce said. And for once, he really did sound glad, as if he was genuinely pleased that Damian had enjoyed himself. "I got you something." Bruce interrupted Damian's thoughts, pulling a long, thin box from his suit pocket and handing it to Damian.

The box was pitch black and tied with a thin black ribbon. Nothing fancy, just a simple bow one would tie on their shoe laces. Damian pulled the ribbon free, gently lifting the lid. His father rarely gave gifts and Damian was excited to see what this one might be. Resting in the box was a batarang- an old one by the looks of it. The wings of the bat were curved and somewhat elegant compared to the current (and more effective, Damian suspected) batarangs which were all sharp, clean lines. This one was made of a different material as well, one which clearly hadn't stood the test of time, judging by the chip on one of the wings. Damian looked up to his father for explanation. Surely his father hadn't given him some defective old weapon when Damian had a whole rack of more durable, reliable ones in his room.

"That is the first batarang I ever made." Bruce said, picking it up gently, dragging his finger along the honed edge of the blade. "It doesn't look like much now, I know. But back then, this seemed perfect. The ultimate crime fighting weapon. The more recent design is much better of course, easier to throw, better control and all but… I kept this one. It's seen a lot of battles. Kind of like us, I suppose."

Damian took the battle beaten blade from his father, index finger catching on the nick in the blade. Evidently this blade meant more than his father was saying. Damian pocketed the blade. "Thank you, father. It seems to have served you well in battle."

"It did. Hopefully it hasn't outlived it's usefulness." Bruce looked up to see Dick swatting at Jason's legs which were still planted on the armrest of Dick's brand new couch. "I better go say hi to Dick and, uh, put a stop to that," Bruce said before jogging off in the direction of the bickering boys.

Soon enough the family was standing around the too small dining room table as Dick lead a rambunctious and seriously pitchy version of the Happy Birthday song. Damian knew the bad singing on Dick's part was on purpose but he smiled anyway. He blew out the candles at Bab's insistence, even going so far as to make a wish, despite his better judgement. Just one perfect day. Just one.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, as the family laughed and played silly games and ate cake. Random conversation floated about the room as the many bat children caught up with one another and with their mentors, Bruce and Alfred. In between conversation with Alfred about his pets- Titus and Goliath- Damian heard Dick nag only half jokingly, "How many times do we have to say it, Jason. No guns at the dinner table." While he was conferring with Barbara about the latest crime-analysis software being introduced to the Gotham Police Department, he heard Jason croon, "Aw, come on, Dickie. Handcuffs are half the fun of it!"

The room grew quiet when the sharp trill of Dick's work phone pierced the quiet conversations. Dick's shoulders sagged in anticipation of bad news as he put the phone to his ear. "Officer Grayson," He answered, eyes locking with Damian for a few seconds. "Alright. Yeah, I'll be right there. 20 Minutes tops. Yeah, I have to change. Alright." All eyes in the room asked what Dick was clearly hesitant to tell. "There's been an explosion downtown. The courthouse. Not sure of the cause yet, but… Well, they want all hands on deck, the area is already being swept and evacuated, so uh… Not much for Nightwing and Flamebird to do." All of this was said as he avoided eye contact and sped about the apartment, grabbing his bag, checking his firearm and throwing on his kevlar vest.

He was about to step onto the elevator when he stopped and jogged back to Damian. He placed his hand on the back of Damian's neck and stooped until he was eye to eye with the young boy, barely 13. "Sorry to leave, but duty calls. You can unwrap my present later, when I'm back, if you want." Dick muttered restlessly. Damian understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to reassure Damian and himself that he would be back, making a promise that he intended to keep. He was promising to come back knowing he couldn't guarantee a thing.

Damian squeezed his brother's wrist once. "I will open it when you get back."

"Okay, I gotta go, Kiddo." Dick squeezed the back of Damian's neck once more before snatching up his duty bag and dodging well wishes and pleas of 'be safe' from Barbara, Alfred and Tim on his way to the elevator.

The room was silent for a long time after that, every member consumed in their own personal world of worry. Finally, Jason broke the spell. "I'll turn on the news, I guess. Maybe we can see what's happening." Alfred nodded and sat on the edge of the couch, nearest to the Lazy Boy Jason was still sitting in, albeit upright and very stiffly now.

Barbara muttered her agreement as she went in search of her laptop. "Yeah, maybe I can find something." She sat at the dining room table and booted up her laptop. Tim and Bruce joined her, crowding around her computer and murmuring suggestions for places to start her information search. Damian didn't want to sit on the couch or crowd around a stupid computer screen while his brother was running headlong into possible danger. He wanted to be there with him, running alongside him, watching his back. Unfortunately with the watchful eye of the entire bat-family, his chances of truly escaping to do such was unlikely.

"I'm going to go onto the balcony, see if I can see anything with the binoculars." Damian announced. Bruce and Barbara both looked up.

"I have no delusions of leaving, father." Damian grated before lowering his gaze adding more quietly, "I just need to be doing something." His father nodded and turned back to the screen, hand planted on the table beside Bab's laptop. Damian grabbed at the binoculars and made toward the blinds which covered the floor to ceiling glass wall and door which lead onto the balcony.

He had barely slid the door shut and raised the lenses to his eyes when his suspicions were confirmed: wishing on candles was utter bull shit. His perfect day fell down around him at the sight of his mother landing, cat-like on the balcony, hair fluttering slightly in the breeze.


	2. Chapter 2

Damian was tempted to leap off the balcony and risk landing on the ground thirteen stories below but decided against it. The show of cowardice would hurt just as much as the landing would.

Damian dropped into a fighting stance, letting the binoculars fall to the concrete floor. "Mother. What an unpleasant surprise."

"Now, now Damian. Is that anyway to treat your mother? Where are your manners? Did that old fool of a butler teach you nothing?" She stood to her full height, ignoring Damian's battle stance. She didn't seem too worried about preparing for an attack, but Damian knew she was quick enough to dodge almost any attack he could muster.

"Leave Pennyworth out of this," Damian growled, a protectiveness surging up into his chest. "I thought petty insults were beneath you."

"I thought I taught you better than to give up adequate training from your father for a second rate circus performer with a bleeding heart," His mother sneered. She was purposely jabbing at the people he respected most, trying to get a rise out of him. Unfortunately knowing this didn't stop a red tinge from creeping into the edge of his vision nor prevent his pulse from pounding in his ears.

"The entire force of the Batman and his family are just beyond those doors," Damian snarled, thumb jabbing in the direction of the glass. He was suddenly cursing the fact that they had closed the blinds for his celebration. "One word from me and you'd be surrounded."

"Is that so? The entire Bat-family, just beyond those doors?" Talia jeered. Her eyes were the same emerald green as his, with the same cold glint that Damian knew unsettled Grayson when it shone in his own.

"What have you done to our city?" Damian fought hard to control the fear and anger in his voice. His mother had taught him long ago that emotion was a weakness easily played with by an enemy.

"'Our city'? This dump? Really Damian, I expected more of you."

"What did you do?" Damian repeated, his eyes making a quick scan of the skyline. Black smoke was billowing from the city center, contrasting against the calming orange and pink of the fading daylight.

"Nothing that cannot be repaired. Yet." Her eyes followed his every move. He couldn't move his hand a centimeter without her posture shifting. There was no way he'd be able to reach the batarang before she pounced, let alone use it in some sort of defense.

"I'm growing tired of this conversation, mother. Tell me what you came here to tell me and leave."

"Is that a threat?" She challenged, a tenseness arising in the set of her shoulders. In response, Damian crouched lower, balling his hands into fists. "Perhaps you have some spine yet, my son." Her smile was so cold it was practically glacial. It was enough to send a chill down the back of Damian's neck. His mother was a dangerous woman, no doubt.

"I left you with your father because I thought it might do you some good. I thought you could learn from him something you could not from me. I did not send you to Gotham so you could spend your days with that idiotic acrobat. The Batman was supposed to teach you discipline, fear. And now his sorry excuse for a first partner has turned you soft. I will not have it. I did not raise you to be weak, to be ruled by fickle emotions. I did not raise you to be inconsequential or ordinary like that circus freak."

Damian didn't think. He sank his clenched fist into his mother's stomach, right beneath her rib cage. Before he could jump onto the railing for better leverage or step back to avoid her counter attack he was pushed up against the railings, face scraping against concrete pavers, wrists held tightly in the claws of his mother. "You only serve to prove my point." Her nails dug further into his wrists and he bit his lip. He would not cry out. He was not weak.

In the distance Damian heard another explosion. He angled his head toward the courthouse. It had definitely come from that direction. "What did you do to him?" Damian cried, struggling futilely against his mother. She had the advantage of height and leverage. He couldn't budge.

"Your sideshow act remains unharmed, for now. The same cannot be said for 'your city' however," She mocked his words from earlier. His blood was boiling.

"Your ultimatum. Tell me." Damian said, tasting blood and pavement.

"Stay here and watch your city burn, crumbling before the power of The League of Assassins."

"Or?"

"Or return to me and resume proper training. Save your pathetic city and your worthless friends. You have five days to make your decision. But know that every night you delay the inevitable, your city will suffer at the hands of my followers. How many blows do you think this heap can take?" She kicked him swiftly in the back of the knee and he crumpled to the ground. He scrambled up as fast as he could manage but she was already gone. Damian rubbed the back of his hand against his throbbing cheek. He could try to pursue her, but he knew it would be no good. His mother was gone and so was his chance at happiness.

Damian sucked in a few deep breathes and steeled himself. If his father knew the cause of the destruction, Damian's short stay would end, and his best partnership would once again be terminated.

He entered the loft to find everyone exactly how he left them, albeit quite a bit more worried. Alfred was clutching his hands in his lap, knuckles white as he watched the screen. Jason had pulled out his pistol and was unloading and reloading the magazine nervously. Across the room his father was looming over Barbara, muscles tense and index finger tapping anxiously at the table. Tim was pointing at something on the computer screen as Babs multitasked, typing as she dialed Dick's number.

"Finally!" She crowed in delight, standing up so fast the her chair fell to the ground. "Dick. My God, are you okay?" She asked, transferring the phone to speaker mode and waving the rest of the group toward her. Damian, Jason and Alfred raced over, crowding around the phone.

The other end of the line crackled with background noise- a cacophony of far off shouts, sirens, radio feedback and wind. "Barb, I'm fine." Dick's voice came through raspy and nervous. "The explosion at the Court House- it looks like it might be a terrorist attack: the primary explosion was to cause a panic, probably lure first responders. The secondary explosion… It took out a lot of good guys. Mainly firemen who went in searching for survivors. I-" His voice cracked followed closely by a racking cough. "I'm fine." He lied again. As usual, Dick claimed to be fine despite the opposite being painfully obvious. "I can't stay on long, it's a madhouse out here and people need help."

"Should-should we send people? Find help?" Tim asked, trying to ask if Dick wanted the full force of the Batfamily out to help, without saying so much over the line. Bat Paranoia may be the only thing he and Damian had in common.

"No. We don't know who this is. That may be exactly what they want. Let the police handle this. I'll call you back as soon as I can. Er, watch out for each other, okay?"

"Of course, Dick." Barbara said, voice not betraying the stricken look on her face.

"Be safe, Master Dick."

"Don't do anything stupid," Bruce added.

"Geez, would ya'll do me a favor and quit acting like this is my funeral? I'll see you in a few." Dick said, injecting a false confidence and humor into his voice before hanging up.

"So we're not actually just going to sit here and wait, right?" Jason asked, gazing at each member of the assembled group as if challenging them to oppose him. Sure, he and Dick didn't get along at the best of times, but he didn't want Dick dead- well, not at the moment anyway.

"For now, we have to. Dick is right. We don't know who's behind this or what forces are at work here. We can't afford to play into their hands," Bruce announced grimly. He didn't like it anymore than anyone else did. Damian clenched his fist around the batarang in his pocket, whether to stem his frustration or keep himself from talking, he wasn't sure.

A tense moment of silence followed as the group looked at each other, glanced at the room. They were all too familiar with the environment: a perfect day ruined by a malevolent force; a loved one swept into harm's way on what was supposed to be a day of celebration.

Though the tension in the room was still thick enough to slice with knife, each member of the family eventually found some way to occupy themselves until Dick arrived. Bruce fetched Dick's laptop from his bedroom and Tim retrieved his from his bag by the couch. Both went back to the dining table with Babs, pushing aside the cake and other goodies and hunkering down, ready to sift through gigabytes of data for some scrap of information. Jason went back to the television and cranked the volume up another couple of notches, cycling through the two or three local news channels he knew of. Alfred went about the house picking up trash, wiping off surfaces and fussing at cushions. When there was nothing left to straighten, he went back to the couch, posture as strict as a drill sergeant's.

Damian on the other hand had nothing to keep his mind from roaming. He tried sharpening his batarangs which he retrieved from his room but he couldn't focus. He attempted to sit patiently and watch the news but all it did was repeat empty statements and useless facts, only adding to his agitation. He thought about pulling out his laptop but remembered it was pointless. He knew what was causing this- who was causing this- and why. And still there was nothing he could do. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He supposed he could give his mother exactly what she wanted and turn himself in, but he wasn't sure she'd hold up her end of the bargain. Nor was he excited about giving his mother the satisfaction of winning.

Hours ticked by painstakingly slow. Damian felt that time itself had bent to the will of his she-devil of a mother. Finally, around 2:30 in the morning, a familiar ding pierced the silence. It was the elevator.

Dick staggered out, clearly exhausted. Bruce stood quickly, ghosting up to Dick. He pulled the duty bag from Dick's limp fingers, placing a steadying hand on his back. Damian inched forward, loathe to crowd his drained brother but hungry to ensure he was unharmed. Tim quietly stood and pulled out his chair, watching as Bruce directed Dick into it. Damian sprinted to the refrigerator and snatched at a water bottle, edging toward his partner.

Silently, Damian nudged the bottle into Dick's hand which clamped loosely around the bottle. His tired gaze met Damian's momentarily as he nodded his appreciation before he focused his energies on untwisting the lid. Damian took this opportunity to evaluate his brother. Dick's normally perfectly styled hair was disheveled and plastered to his head with sweat, singed at the ends. His uniform-usually pristine- was covered in soot and drenched in a mixture of sweat, fire retardant and what appeared to be dried blood. A small, nasty looking burn lay just above his right elbow. The skin was puckered and an angry red, blisters already forming. Thankfully it didn't look to be too deep. Certainly it could have been a lot worse.

Upon seeing Alfred approach with a first aid kit, Tim and Babs backed away to allow the old man space to work. They stepped just far enough away not to be accused of crowding but they didn't show any signs of leaving the vicinity. Jason joined them, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably as he watched Alfred clean out Dick's wound before applying burn cream. It was not pleasant to watch. After a few more minutes, Alfred stood, having bandaged Dick's arm with deft but gentle fingers. Dick lifted the bottle of water to his lips and drained the remaining half. He rose unsteadily to his feet, hand groping at Bruce's shoulder for balance.

"I've got to go back in tomorrow at noon, help with traffic and clean up."

"I thought tomorrow was your day off," Damian protested. His brother was in no shape to be out in the street with a target practically painted on his back.

"Not anymore. It's all hands on deck. The sent me home when they could, since I already worked a ten hour shift today, but it's just so I can get a few hours of sleep. The force needs everyone they can get."

"But-" Barbara began to protest.

"Look, I'm a lot luckier than some of the guys who were out there with me. They need rest. Me? I made it out easy. I can go back out there. I can take it." He seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as the others. Something in his voice stanched the flow of objections. Unfortunately, he was right. He was lucky enough to make it out, and he was desperately needed.

Tim was the first to speak. "Go get some rest. You'll need it."

Dick nodded and trudged to his room. He stopped just outside his door and said, "Thanks for staying, guys. And thanks for the help. You guys need the rest as much as I do. Go ahead and go home. I'll make sure to keep you guys informed. Maybe we can pick all this back up another time." Dick motioned at the forgotten birthday decorations before disappearing into his bedroom.

"He doesn't think we're actually going to leave, right?" Babs asked, a knot of worry and indignation at such a suggestion.

"This is his city, Barbara. He's all grown up and he can take care of himself. Or ask for help by himself." Jason grudgingly acknowledged. He felt no joy in leaving Dick with such a mess.

"It's not as if he's entirely without backup," Tim chimed in despite himself.

"That's right." Bruce nodded, planting a hand on Damian's shoulder. "You look out for him, Damian. You hear me?" Bruce asked not unkindly.

"Yes, father. I'll watch out for him. We will find whoever is responsible. And they will pay for their crimes," Damian forced through gritted teeth.

"You call if you need help. Don't you two try to fight a lion with a toothpick, you understand? First sign you're in over your heads, you call me." His father drilled, locking eyes with the stubborn young man before him.

"Yes, father." Damian said, because it was all he could say. The others piled into the elevator and Damian fought the urge to call them back and ask them to stay. He had to learn to fight his own battles, and he already had the only mentor he wanted to learn from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter coming at you like a speeding train!   
> Hope you guys like the chapter. Thanks to all of you who comented on my last chapter. I really appreciated everything you guys had to say!  
> Tell me more, my friends!


	3. Chapter 3

Dick left the house at 11:00 the next morning looking cautious but well rested. Well rested for a guy who had been nearly blown up the night before, that is. He packed his bag, made some toast and tried to ignore the fact that he could still smell his singed hair despite having washed it. Twice.

Damian was quiet at breakfast but promised to do his schoolwork. Dick wondered at that. Damian wasn't the type of kid who quietly submitted to instruction. He tended toward the complain-and-bicker-till-the-adult-snaps route. If Damian and he hadn't recently had the big 'trust goes both ways' conversation, Dick would have suspected that Damian planned to sneak out while he was gone and investigate. As it was, he was pretty sure they were past that and he didn't really have time to sit around and interrogate Damian at the moment.

Dick grabbed his bag and headed toward the elevator. "Be good!" Dick called, making a mental note to talk to Damian after his shift, and figure out what was going on with the boy.

Having only recently been released from the probationary phase of his training, Dick was assigned traffic duty for a seven hour shift. Typically only night shifters worked seven hour shifts, as they were usually more busy. A normal 24 hour day was split into three shifts: the day shift, which worked from 8 AM to 6PM, the night shift which worked from 6PM to 1AM and the graveyard shift which worked from 1AM to 8AM. Dick almost exclusively worked the day shift except for the occasional stint to work on a task force or cover for a buddy. This left his "night shift" free for his other activities.

All day long Dick stood in the street, directing traffic along the temporary detour around the blast site. Nobody gave him any trouble and it wasn't exactly rigorous work but the sun had chosen today to burn Bludhaven with an out of character heatwave and the mind numbing work didn't do anything to help his irritation.

Nonetheless Dick finished his shift with a smile and a firm handshake as another tired looking officer pulled up and took Dick's position. Dick zipped over to the station, changed, and jumped on his motorcycle, eager for a good sit down meal and a chat with the youngest member of his family.

The smell that greeted Dick as he stepped off the elevator into his loft almost made him buckle at the knees. It was probably the best thing he'd come home to in a long time. Starfire stood in front of the stove stirring a large pot of what smelled like Raven's Super Secret Vegetarian Chili recipe. "Star?" Dick asked, dazed by the overwhelming smell of awesome food.

"Richard! Welcome home." She floated over, smiling widely. Serving spoon still in hand, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on the lips.

"Hey, beautiful. Glad you're here. I thought you weren't coming until next week?" Dick wondered, finally dropping his bag and winding his arms around her waist.

"Damian called me and told me what happened last night. You did not think to call me?" Starfire chided, but her voice was less angry and more concerned. Her bright green eyes roved up and down his form until they landed upon his bandaged arm. Her cute, red eyebrows tilted upward with concern.

"I definitely should have called. I'm sorry." Dick apologized, feeling like an ass. He had been so tired he hadn't even thought about giving her a heads up. He saw her staring at his bandaged arm and he clapped her hand gently as it hovered above his burn. "Alfred patched me up, not to worry. I can hardly feel it." At her reproachful glance he added, "I swear!" Dragging his finger across his heart in the shape of an 'x'.

"I suppose, since you have done the crossing of your heart…" She drifted back to the chili, stirring again. Damian knelt beside her, opening the oven and jabbing a toothpick into whatever he had baking- if Dick was a betting man, he'd guess cornbread.

Damian withdrew, looking satisfied with the progress and turned to Dick, shutting the oven door as he did so. "How was your shift, Grayson?"

"Boring. Which I'm taking as a blessing today." Damian nodded. His brother still looked tired, but nowhere close to the bone aching exhaustion from the night before. Dick put his hand on Damian's shoulder and pulled him a little farther into the living room, and a little farther from Starfire who he eyed wearily before turning back to Damian. "Thanks for calling her. That was really kind of you."

"Yes, well…" Damian tilted his head, trying to find the right words. "I have something to tell you at dinner and…" Damian shrugged begrudgingly, "She knows how to sooth you. Besides, her chili isn't awful and I suppose I don't entirely abhor her presence."

"That's, uh, really big of you, Damian." Dick commended. Truth be told, that was high praise coming from Damian. Dick decided to ignore the whole I have something to tell you thing for the time being because it was clearly unsettling Damian. Anything that unsettled Damian would probably scare the shit out of Dick.

Minutes later Starfire called from the kitchen, "Boys, would you mind setting the table?" Damian and Dick obliged. Dick grabbed the bowls wordlessly (Damian was much perturbed by the fact that he couldn't reach the highest shelf of the cabinet without climbing onto the counter, something that Tim found hilarious). Damian grabbed spoons and paper towels to serve as napkins and the boys placed them at the table.

One place setting at the head of the table, facing the living room and two places side by side. On the rare occasion that the two boys sat at the table for dinner, rather than the couch, Dick allowed Damian to sit at the head of the table. Damian argued that he preferred that seat because it gave him "strategic positioning" of the room, something about being able to see all three exits-the elevator and the balcony, and the door to Dick's bedroom which led to the fire escape- and still being close enough to the kitchen to grab a knife, if the need should arise. Personally, Dick thought it just made him feel special, and Dick thought Damian could use a bit of that. Tim accused Dick of spoiling Damian, but Dick always shrugged it off.

The first few minutes of dinner were cordial but quiet. Most of the noise was the clinking of silverware on ceramic and idle small talk such as, "This tastes really good, Star," or "The cornbread is most excellent, Damian. You must show me how to make it one of these days!" Dick didn't want to poke the bear, so to speak. If Damian had something big to say, he needed to be allowed to say it in his own time. Dick was just starting to crack the rock hard shell Damian hid behind. It would be a shame to ruin the progress by pushing too hard before he was ready to share.

Damian meanwhile stewed in his thoughts, stirring his chili restlessly as he considered how to break the news. He was being stupid. He should just come out and say it, right? But a voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that once he told Dick who was behind the attack, their perfect little set up would start crumbling apart.

Damian set his spoon down and set his clenched hands on either side of his still mostly full bowl. "Alright, already."

Starfire shot him a slightly startled look before pointing the same face at Dick whose eyes were now locked firmly with Damian's. "Alright." Dick agreed.

"I know who's behind the downtown attack. And why they did it. I've known since last night but…" Damian lost his nerve and glared at his lap. Grayson was probably fuming across the table, furious at him for concealing what he knew.

"Damian. Take a deep breath and tell me the rest. There's a reason you didn't tell me, right?" His voice wasn't angry. It was pleading. Begging for a good explanation.

"Last night, after the first explosion, after you left. The others were in here, looking for information. I went out onto the balcony. I was going to try to see if I could see the courthouse with those binoculars father purchased for you. The minute I closed the door… My mother greeted me."

Damian watched Dick's eyes grow cold, dangerous. His face paled slightly yet showed nothing but determination and anger. Starfire gripped his hand in one of hers, rubbing up and down his arm with the other in a soothing gesture. "And what the hell was Talia Al Ghul doing on my patio?" Dick growled, though Damian knew the hostility was not directed at him.

"She was… Displeased by my latest living arrangements. And my choice of partner. She said-she said you were an unsuitable partner and that I had disappointed her. She gave me a choice. Go back with her, to Nanda Parbat or…"

"Or she'd sick her wild dogs- sorry, followers- on the city." Dick's tone was so sharp it could have sliced through concrete.

"Essentially."

"How long until The End Of Days?"

"She gave me 5 days. Today was the first…"

"And she doesn't plan to leave the city alone in the meantime." Dick stated. He didn't need to ask because he already new the answer.

Damian confirmed anyway. "No, she doesn't. She seems to think that escalating her attacks on the city each night will coax my cooperation."

"There's nothing stronger than a mother's love," Dick quipped humorlessly. Starfire's hand stopped it's motions on his arm, which seemed to jar Grayson. He looked momentarily guilty. "Sorry, Damian. That was insensitive of me."

"You are not the one who has anything to apologize for." Damian assured. Grayson's reaction to the news only cemented what he had thought since he had first been partnered with Dick: Richard John Grayson was quite possibly the only person in the world who wanted nothing from Damian. He wanted for Damian. Wanted happiness, or a good future, or some other Hallmark-greeting-card-optimistic-pipe dream for Damian.

The two men studied each other for a moment. Whether they were remembering past adventures together or mulling over their future was unclear. One thing was easily read in each other's eyes however: they would not be separated. Not without a fight.

"You're not going with her." Dick warned.

"Of course not. I learned enough from you to know she doesn't own me. No one does," Damian declared. Dick stood, kissing the top of Starfire's head before stepping around her to where Damian sat. He crouched low, leaning forward to make sure he had Damian's full attention.

"We'll figure this out, kiddo. You and me."

"They'll never know what hit them," Damian smiled determinedly.

"The dynamic duo. Dick and Damian. Double D. D squared," Dick cracked jokingly. Damian wasn't sure whether it was for Dick's sanity or for his and he wasn't sure Dick did either. Whatever the reason, Damian was grateful for the wisecrack. He had learned a long time ago that there was only room for one broody boy per duo and he didn't have the grit to wear spandex and make bad puns.

The three cleared the kitchen table, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and pouring the leftovers into Tupperware for future meals. Damian moved to the living room, knowing that Dick would want to talk to Starfire for a few minutes. He flipped aimlessly through channels, listening intently to their conversation.

Starfire stood with their back to the elevator, clutching at the strap of her large bag. She had already donned her loud, turquoise church hat and slipped the holo rings onto her fingers. The two combined muted her features enough for her to slip through the public unrecognized, which seemed idiotic to Damian, but had always worked. "I worry for you safety, Richard. You and Damian's. You have told me many stories. Talia is dangerous. Are you sure you are not in over your head? Surely your family would be willing to help." She stood on the ground, a clear sign that she was distressed- her powers were directly linked to her emotions. Flight was controlled through joy.

"Try not to worry too much, babe." Dick began, reaching out to tuck a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "Yeah, she's dangerous but…"

"Everything we do is dangerous. Yes. I noticed."

"We'll be alright. I'll call you. Every night. If we need help… I'll call them, okay? It's just hard to ask for help when you insisted on striking your partnership with The Bat, you know?"

"Harder than fighting a losing battle?"

Dick sighed, deflating a little. "I'll be careful. I will. Bruce and the others are a phone call away, alright?"

"And so are the Titans." She nodded, reminding him that her team, too would willing support Dick and Damian.

"Thanks, Star."

She smiled, leaning into him, one hand slipping from the strap of her bag to the small of his back. Dick pushed off from the counter, which he had been leaning on and clutched at her face with both hands, leaning into her touch. The two kissed three, four times, small, affectionate pecks before disengaging. Starfire clicked the elevator call button and slipped her hand into Dick's as she waited.

When the doors slid open, he squeezed her hand reassuringly and followed her halfway into the elevator. Starfire poked her head out of the elevator. "Good-bye, Damian. I hope to see you again soon." She smiled before adding, "Stay strong and be safe." Damian watched her recede into the elevator, watched Dick lean in to pass on his final comments. It occurred to Damian, not for the first time, that scenes such as this- wishes of safety from a kind, smiling woman, encouraging words from a loving sibling and small, domestic scenes such as the one unfolding before him were the kind of environment he had never had but had longed for, despite the training which told him these yearnings made him weak.

"I'll see you next week, love." Dick promised Starfire.

Starfire responded but Damian couldn't make out what she said, only heard Dick's laughing reply. "Yeah, there'll be lots of that. Alright, stay safe." A brief pause before the elevator blared a warning and Dick backed out the rest of the way. "I will. Love you too, beautiful."

The doors shut and Dick turned back to Damian, looking not quite so shaken. "Suit up, Damian. We're going on a witch hunt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't help sneaking Star in there a bit. She's my weakness. In case you're wondering, I'm operating on a Psuedo new 52/rebirth timeline. Starfire is the leader of the Teen Titans and Dick is in Bludhaven (I guess I'm pretending the Titans book doesn't exist). I'm fudging with a few things: I'm stealing the "Dick is a cop" thing from other storylines because I like it. I like the cop angle. And I love writing all the cop details, if you hadn't noticed. I'm a nerd. ^.^ The other thing I'm fudging with: Damian. In my story, he decides to partner back up with Dick, instead of joining the titans and paling around with superboy. In addition, Tim Drake is alive and in the same time/universe/reality what have you with all the rest of the batfamily. Also, I'll admit to not knowing too much about Cassandra or Stephanie or bat woman or Duke or any of the countless others whose names I can't remember. So I'm pretending they don't exist. Sorry! I'd rather not write their characters at all than write them wrong. That would be an injustice to their characters. (Hah. Injustice. See what I did there? Okay, okay, I'm sorry.)
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please review! What do you think of Star?


	4. Chapter 4

If Damian's calculations were correct, he had suited up in record time- 56 seconds, to be exact. Still, when he exited his bedroom, Dick was already waiting for him, skin tight suit immaculate. Damian's eyes flew to the blinds. Closed. Damn. How had Grayson been so fast?

Dick was busy pulling on baggy sweat pants and zipping a dark hoodie over his suit- civilian camouflage until they were able to make it to one of Dick's hideaways and ditch the outerwear. Despite the blue mask on the older man's face, Damian could see a certain fervor. He was hungry for revenge. Damian could relate, but he knew that family was one of Dick's weaknesses. It tended to cloud his judgment. That was the last thing they needed right now.

Damian slipped on trackpants and a pullover sweater, slapping on a red eye mask the second the sweater was over his head. Dick looked ready to jump off the balcony and swing into action. "All set, Flamebird?" Dick checked, already headed in the direction of the sliding glass door.

"I am, Grayson, but you are not."

Did turned back around, a frown on his face. "I've got everything, Damian. My escrimas are in the bag," Dick said, misinterpreting Damian's comment and motioning toward the backpack which was slung over one of his shoulders.

"You misunderstand me. What I mean is: we don't have a plan." Damian planted his feet a little wider, facing his mentor head on.

"The plan is to go find Talia and put an end to her little temper tantrum." Dick replied, an edge creeping into his voice.

"What do you intend to do, Grayson? Search the whole city?"

"If I have to." Dick said, crossing his arms. Some part of him knew Damian was making sense but that part was buried under layers of protective urges and distaste for a woman who had never treated his younger brother properly.

"Where do you intend to look? Do you even know what we're looking for? Going out now, without a game plan would be a waste of time, Richard." Damian crossed his arms, mimicking Dick. Most people assumed that Damian enjoyed confrontation. Those people were right- with the exception of Grayson. Damian took no great pleasure in chastising his brother, or pointing out his flaws. But it was what he had to do if they were going to succeed. More than ever, Damian was determined to succeed.

"I don't know Damian, but I'm sure as hell not going to let her rain terror on my city. And I'm sure as hell not going to sit on my ass and wait for her to strike first." His tone was two parts irritation, one part defeat.

Damian took a step toward his brother but kept his defensive posture. "You know that is not what I am asking you to do. I want her in custody as much as you do, believe me. But we won't catch her by chance. She's probably been planning this since the Minh case. We can't afford not to think through our next move," Damian reasoned.

Dick silently studied his young partner for a minute. With a sigh, he let his arms drop to his side, marveling at the wisdom of the young man before him. The reason the two worked so well together was that they had different strengths. Damian, like his father, was colder, calculating. Like a true chessman, he was always planning five steps ahead. He was the cold, hard reason of their duo. Dick, on the other hand, was skilled at improvisation, flying by the seat of his pants. When plans went awry, he easily tweaked his methods and changed tactics seamlessly. Dick was what kept the team flexible. It was the same reason Dick and Bruce had made such a great pair for so many years; in their duo, Damian had always been The Batman, even when Dick had worn the cowl.

Dick jerked his head in the direction of the couch and both boys sat down. "And once again I find myself saying those dreadful words: you're right," Dick muttered, trying (and failing) for a smile.

"Yes, I would think you'd be quite used to that by now," Damian too found his usual smirk just out of reach.

"What are you thinking, Kiddo? What's our next move?"

"I-I'm not entirely sure." Damian admitted, rubbing his face around the edge of his mask. "Mother told me to come to her when I had enough of her destruction but she didn't say where… I have been trying to decipher what she meant but I have been unable to determine her location thus far."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. Laboring over it usually just increases stress." Dick encouraged, digging deep. His kid brother needed him to be clear thinking, and so far, he wasn't doing so hot.

"I've meditated and done several location searches but I haven't been able to ascertain a likely location for my mother yet. Since neither of us know where she is or where she will strike next, I think it unwise to wander the city." Damian clenched his fists in frustration.

"What we really need is someone who can help us monitor the city. Someone who has access and experience with surveillance," Dick agreed. He peeled off his mask and rolled his neck, trying to rid his shoulders of some of their tension. Damian followed suit, peeling off his mask. It was clear they wouldn't be needing them for the time being. "I'd call Barbara but…" Dick grunted.

"The minute she found out who we're up against, she'd call father," Damian hissed with displeasure.

"Yeah. I know she means well but that's really not what we need right now… I mean, I have some training. I could try and set something up but it's really not my area of expertise and I don't have the flexibility to sit down sift through all that."

"Nor do I," Damian rolled his eyes, remembering all the school work his father had sent the night before. And while school was pretty much the last thing on his mind, if he didn't keep up with it, his father would know something was off.

Damian noticed Dick glancing at him, a hesitant look on his face. "Don't even suggest it. Don't even think about suggesting it," Damian warned, knowing where Dick's thoughts were leading him.

"Tim is our next best option. He's great at that sort of stuff." Dick argued.

Damian snorted with derision. "Timothy isn't half the sleuth Barbara is, I don't care what anyone thinks. And besides-" Damian gnashed his teeth, "Drake doesn't trust me. He'd go to father faster than Gordon would. I don't need him on my team." Grayson's eyes softened slightly as Damian continued, "We don't need him. You say trust is the key to our smooth operation? Let's keep it that way."

Dick nodded, mind changed. He had hoped that Damian would accept Tim's help, but it didn't appear to be the case. He might be right about Tim snitching on them, but they were running out of options. "Who do you have in mind?"

Damian thought for a moment. "Jason."

"Mmm." Dick hummed, trying for mild discontent but sounding strangled.

"He has become quite self sufficient since embarking on his own. He has quite an operation set up, one I know Barbara has helped him with. He knows how to run it, uses it frequently."

Dick knew that Damian was avoiding the fact that Jason had his own bone to pick with the Al Ghul family and was known to be extra shoot-y around them. "I just don't think Jason is the right man for the job, bud. He's too much of a loose cannon." Grayson knew that the two, while not exactly fond of each other, had a certain understanding. Both had suffered at the hands of the Al Ghul's. They, better than anyone, knew of the family's cruelty and callousness. Still, Dick himself was having trouble reining in his emotions, keeping his anger in check. Jason was not likely to start playing nice just because Dick asked him to. (Dick unfortunately knew from personal experience.)

"Perhaps…" Damian relented.

"Gah, since when was being a superhero so hard?" Dick cried, dragging both hands through his still messy hair. It was going to take a lot more than his normal morning gel to sort out that mess.

"...Since always?" Damian reminded him helpfully.

"Alright." Dick clapped his hands, hopping off the couch. Instead he paced thoughtfully back and forth in front of the TV. Motion always helped him think. A nice thirteen story dive would have been most ideal, but Dick knew that would be pushing his luck. It would be very hard to explain to his neighbors if they saw, even given his well known history as a circus acrobat.

After about a million laps across his living room, a light clicked on. "I've got it!" Dick crowed in delight. "Oh Dami, you're going to love this."

Damian raised his eyebrow in challenge. He knew by Dick's cheering that he most certainly was not going to like this.

"Wally! Wally West!" Dick actually had the gall to pump his fist into the air. "I haven't seen him in a dog's age. This is going to be great. He's the perfect one for the job."

Damian sighed, wishing he could disagree. Unfortunately, under the current circumstances, they were fresh out of other options. "Which Wally?" Damian muttered, though he wasn't sure it really mattered. He wasn't particularly fond of either.

Dick barked a short, sharp laugh. It was a fair question. Earth 1, their current residence was home to Wally West II, the handsome African American nephew of Iris West, resident of Central City. Wally West, the befreckled, red headed ball of energy whom Dick claimed was his best friend was another story. It had something to do with the flashpoint event which occurred when Barry Allen had gone into his past, hoping to save his mother. Evidently, in trying to change his past, Barry Allen managed to muck up the future. Something about Prime Earth and interdimensional transport? Dick wasn't really clear on the details, and to be quite honest it made his head hurt just thinking about it. Which was why he usually didn't

"The Flash," Dick answered, clarifying with, "Red head, prankster, ladies man, Wally West."

Damian huffed. "I'll call in the pizza order while you phone a friend." Dick gave Damian sympathetic pat on the back. Things might not be so bad after all.

Damian wasn't sure exactly what Dick said to convince Wally to come, but he arrived before the pizza did- which came with a 'arrives in 30 minutes or it's free' guarantee. For a few heart pounding seconds, the room was a flurry of activity as Wally literally ran laps around Dick's apartment, sending papers and one unfortunate couch cushion flying.

Dick grinned as Wally hugged him and Damian stifled the urge to gag as the two pounded each other on the back. "Hey, Wal. Thanks for coming so quick."

"You know me, any excuse to get my old wingman back," Wally winked flirtatiously, putting an arm around Dick's shoulders. "This is a nice place you got, my man. Remind me why I've never been invited?"

Dick shoved Wally good naturedly, bending down and returning the sofa cushion to it's proper place. "Because I like my apartment. And having a full fridge." Dick admitted. He was only half joking.

"Speaking of food-"

"The pizzas are on their way, if you can temper yourself long enough for them to arrive." Damian addressed the speedster. It wasn't that he disliked Wally, just the way he talked too fast. And the fact that he could never sit still and had very little patience. Even his cocky, overconfidence rubbed Damian the wrong way. Other than that, Damian didn't mind him at all. But, he was good with computers, and could scan footage faster than any of them. He would have to put up with the over excited man for the time being.

The pizza arrived shortly after Wally, just in time for payment to still be required. Damian grudgingly handed over the bills as Wally snatched the pizza.

The three sat on the living room floor, discussing the situation and chowing down before long. "-which is why we couldn't ask Barb or Tim or Jason. If you have a few days to spare, your help would really be appreciated. We're kind of in a tough spot right now."

"Even though I'm slightly offended that I was the fourth person you thought of to help, I'll take your charity case," Wally offered, grabbing what was probably his sixth slice of pizza.

"Oh, thanks, Wally. That's really sweet of you." Dick rolled his eyes but he was smiling. Wally was good at lifting his spirits. The two had been friends for a long time, almost since Bruce had adopted him all those years ago.

Damian was just explaining what they needed done- a full sweep of the city, indications of increased activity, evidence of attacks and clues to his mother's where abouts when an alarm blared from Dick's stereo system. The three young heroes ran to Dick's laptop which was sitting on the kitchen counter. With the help of some of the batfamily, Dick had managed to set up an alert system similar to the Batcomputer in The Cave in Gotham. With a few keystrokes, Dick and his companions were watching a video feed of utter chaos down at the amusement park off the docks- stands overturned, people running in all directions, screaming and small fires erupting everywhere. And, worst of all, a gang of black clad warriors, swords drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wally! Had to bring the speedster in eventually, seeing as he and Dick go way back int he comics. I’ve always loved their friendship and I’ll use any excuse to bring Wally in for some much needed banter.  
> Tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Dick did a number of things all at once. He cursed (very loudly) as he sprinted to his bedroom, Wally and Damian in hot pursuit. He leapt over his bed, toward the window which led to his fire escape, thumbing the touch screen of his watch as he soared over the mattress. With a few taps, his motorcycle- ridden by a hologram image of him- was riding into the alley beneath his bedroom window. Dick made a mental note to thank his dad for the bike (which had been a Christmas present) as he pried open his window.

The three boys clambered down the fire escape, weary for onlookers. The needn't have worried. Every window on the block had their curtains draw tight. Smart.

Wally zipped down the stairs, waving from the alley below. Dick dropped the last three stories, landing nimbly beside his bike, throwing his leg over it and kicking the motor to life. Damian jumped on promptly after him, his face grim.

Dick revved the engine, hurtling toward Pleasure Pier, which was the home of a very large amusement park. One he and Damian had visited three weeks prior. Dick pulled into a side street- one with few lights and neighbors who knew not to go out after dark. Dick slowed down enough for the boys to shed their civilian clothes and shove on helmets. They were in hurry, angry and aggrieved, but they weren't completely devoid of sense. Dick flicked up the tinted visor, allowing the wind to rush in on him. He could finally think clearly, his muddled thoughts torn away with the howling wind.

Dick looked to his right, motioning for Wally to come close. Wally closed the distance between them, keeping up with Dick's bike with ease. Dick tapped his ear and Wally nodded, fiddling with his earpiece. Feedback roared to life in his own earpiece, indicating that Wally had switched to his channel. "Wally. Scout ahead. Try to see what you can find out. Recon and report back. Don't be seen. These guys are nasty."

Wally threw Dick a two fingered salute. For all of Wally's silliness, he was a reliable teammate. As he watched his longtime friend streak into the night, he knew he had made the right choice in Wally. Dick let slip another string a curses, remembering his promise to Starfire. Dick fingered the control panel which rested on the console just below the handle bars. He dialed Starfire's number and for once, Dick was thankful that it went to voicemail. "Hey, babe. I'm just checking in, like I said I would. There's, uh, some kind of commotion down at the Pleasure Pier so Damian, Wally and I are going to check it out. I'll text you after. Hope you're safe. Bye."

While Dick made his phone call, Damian tried to get a handle on his emotions, which were threatening to run wildly out of control. Damian was awash with a boiling anger. Underneath this however, surged something worse- a keening sorrow, a mixture of regret and anguish. His mother was targeting the amusement park. She knew exactly what she was doing and it almost made Damian sick to his stomach. Of all of the places his mother could have attacked, why had she ruined this place for him?

Probably because it meant the most to him. Damian wasn't usually sentimental, but the amusement park was somewhat of a holy place to the boy, a place of escape. He and Dick had visited it several times, even before Damian had come to live with Dick. It was the first place Dick had ever brought him to, when Dick had first moved into the city. Clearly his mother knew this. Once again, she was exploiting his emotions, proving to Damian what she had said all along; emotions were weaknesses, leverage that could be taken advantage of.

Damian shook his head. He would not let his mother's manipulations poison his mind nor his fond memories. He remembered the last time Dick and he had visited.

Damian did what he always did when Dick offered to take him to the Pleasure Pier. He acted as if it was something he would merely tolerate going to, as if he hadn't been secretly hoping for Dick to take him ever since he had moved to Bludhaven.

They had walked up the pier together, so entranced by the twinkling lights and the smell of popcorn and funnel cake that they could hardly talk. After obtaining their tickets the two had shot one look at each other and raced to the end of the boardwalk, dodging families and purposely crashing into each other as they sprinted to their favorite attraction: the roller coaster. Dick always brought Damian late at night, around 11:30 and always on weekdays, because that was when the park was the least crowded. It meant that Dick and Damian had gotten to ride in the front seat of the roller coaster three whole times before they were asked to get back in line.

The next attraction that caught their eyes was the ball toss. Metal targets moved jerkily on their tracks, begging to be knocked down. Lucky Pete, the one eyed worker of the booth recognized them and gave them a mostly toothless smile. He took their money and handed them their baseballs, but, as always, required that they move back twenty five feet- over three times the distance he made typical customers throw from. As always he laughed when they pegged his tin bullseyes anyway, offering them their choice of any prize on the top shelf. They decided to go easy on him and only take one of his top shelf prizes- a large stuffed lion which Dick would later present to Starfire.

The stars danced above them as the continued their tour of the boardwalk. The stopped to watch a magician but Damian lost interest quickly, as he soon picked out each of the sleights of hand which made his tricks possible. The sword swallower kept Damian's attention a little better, and he and Grayson watched as the older regaled Damian with stories from his time in the circus, and the gaggle of strange and spectacular people he spent his very first years with.

The two avoided the house of mirrors- it was too Joker-esque for their tastes- but visited the haunted house, the strong man test and the rock wall. Both boys climbed the "advanced" course in under a minute, astounding the ticket taker. Damian had been about to boast that they could both do it without the use of harness, but Dick had dragged him away, reminding him that secret identities were only secret if you keep them that way, Damian. After 4 harrowing rounds of laser tag, the two boys had collapsed on a picnic table, laughing and ripping off pieces of funnel cake as they retold their best shots of the night.

"The one guy in the red shirt had no idea where you were. Everytime he tried to make a break for it, you'd just shoot him again!" Dick laughed, extending his fist to Damian, who gladly bumped back.

"And that idiot who was wearing the white shirt! Who wears a white shirt in a black light room? You must have gotten him 15 times!" Damian snorted, pounding a fist on the table in his fit of mirth.

"Well he freaking glowed. What was I supposed to do?"

Around 3:30 in the morning, Dick made the mature adult decision and that they should head back. Their saving grace was that Dick was off work the next day and Damian had been bored enough to finish his whole week's worth of homework.

As they had walked back to Dick's bike, the eldest Wayne ward had thrown his arm around Damian's small shoulders. "Wow. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun," Dick marveled.

"Nor me," Damian agreed, too content to shrug off Dick's arm.

"I'm glad we did this, Damian. I'll tell you, life's a lot less dull with you around. I'm sorry about why you felt you had to move to Blud with me, but I'm not sorry you did."

Damian looked up, tugged gently on Grayson's sleeve to make sure he had his full attention. "I'm not sorry about why I moved here. It's like you always say. Everything happens for a reason, right?"

Dick's grin turned to a small, contented smile. "Damn, did I say that? I must be smarter than I look." Damian rolled his eyes at his brother's teasing and Dick relented, "You're right. We're lucky things happened the way they did. Otherwise all of this," Dick shook his handful of prizes and photo booth picture strips, "would never have happened."

Damian blinked away the memory. He was still on the motorcycle, but Nightwing wasn't. The kick stand was engaged and Dick was busy deciphering the speed-talk which Wally passed off as speech.

Damian cracked the knuckles on each of his hands, pulling in deep breathes through his nose. He needed to focus. Nightwing had parked his bike about a block away, in the shadows of a particularly odiferous dumpster. Dick engaged the alarm and led the small pack of heroes in a stealthy slink toward the boardwalk. Wally continued his report, words bleeding together. It was a miracle Dick could understand him, though Damian supposed it came from years of spending time with him. Damian decided he didn't care enough about what Wally was saying to spend years with him, learning to decipher the gibberish. He would take his chances against the pack of leaguers ambushing the dock.

Once the three were crouched in the parking lot right off the boardwalk, Nightwing gave his instructions. "Wally, I want you to run under the dock to the other side. Enter from there. They won't expect an attack from the ocean side. Damian, you stick to the shadows. Take out who you can without calling attention to yourself, guide people to the nearest exit."

"And you?" Damian and Wally asked at the same time, much to Damian's chagrin.

"I'll be making a grand entrance."

Wally sprinted off, eager to follow orders for once. Damian stood from his crouch, preparing for his own soft entrance. "Don't do anything stupid." He reminded Nightwing.

"Likewise, kiddo."

Nightwing strutted down the middle of the boardwalk, head back, chest puffed. Small fires burned all around him- in metal trash cans, on the canvas roofs of booths. Most of the revelers had long since abandoned the Pleasure Pier, but every once in awhile Dick found one cowering behind a booth and he would usher them in the direction of the exit. Finally Nightwing found what he was looking for. 4 figures stood, swords drawn. Between them they were wearing enough leather to give most of the city's strip joints a run for their money. The four assassins wore full face masks. Each held an unlucky civilian at sword point.

Nightwing cleared his throat and put on his best ringmaster voice, "Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls step right up to witness the ass-kicking of the century. In this corner, we have the scrappy, ruggedly handsome, Nightwing. In this corner, the washed up back up singers of the late great band, KISS."

Two of the warriors took his bait and engaged. Nightwing smiled grimly, twirling his escrimas in anticipation. The two attacked as one, a well trained fighting machine. They slashed and swirled and sliced. Dick dodged their blades, batted them away with his escrimas and delivered kicks when he could. One was slightly taller than the other, and he made an angry slash for Nightwing's head after taking a particularly hard kick to the ribs. Nightwing dropped his shoulders, arching his back, as if he was playing the world's deadliest game of limbo. Kicking off hard from the ground, Nightwing performed an effortless backflip. His foot met his opponent's jaw hard, sending the man in black to the ground, hard.

Nightwing spun to meet his other opponent, dimly aware of the skirmish a few feet away. Flamebird had made his way to the center of the boardwalk and engaged the other two leather clad assassins. The civilians had taken this golden opportunity to flee the scene. Shorty sliced double blades at Nightwing's chest. He vaulted back just in time to receive the shallowest of cuts from one of the swords. It stung like hell but it was minor. Really, all it did was feed Nightwing's irritation. Nightwing leaped over a slice aimed at his legs, slamming both escrimas into the back of Shorty's head. He too fell.

"Nightwing. This way," Flamebird pointed further down the dock, in the direction of the roller coaster. He didn't sound excited. Wonderful. Nightwing jogged to his young partner's side, saw exactly what his partner was seeing. The rollercoaster had stopped mid ride, and the cause was pretty clear. Thanks to about seven league members, a good chunk of track was missing. The front two cars were dangling precariously over the gap. Any small movement could send the whole train plummeting to the ground. Every car had at least two passengers. There were at least 15 riders in all. And they were all in serious trouble, guarded by some of the best trained warriors in the world.

Perfect. Could this day get any better? Dick pressed his earpiece. "Flash. Coaster. See what I'm seeing?"

A quick burst of static, and then, "Yeah, boss, I see."

Two leaguers stood on the the track near the back end of the coaster's long train of cars- the 'safer' end of the coaster. One stood, on the hood of the middlemost car, brandishing her sword and making threats to the passengers.

The remaining four were on the ground, daring the two approaching heroes to try and pass them. Okay, bring it on, Dick thought.

"Flash. That one in the middle, waving the sword around? She's yours. After that, the passengers. Flamebird. The two near the back end of the coaster. Go." Both acknowledged their tasks quietly. "Be careful of that car. One wrong move and…"

"Bad things." Wally finished.

"Bad things." Damian agreed.

Damian shot a grappling hook at one of the beams of the roller coaster's structure, far from the damaged section. Wally zoomed up the tracks. Dick set his sights on the four brutes at the bottom. These had several silver medallions strapped to their chest plates- symbols of valor, awards for kills. On that happy note, Dick launched a volley batarangs, aiming for the weak points in their armor. One sunk into the chink between a breastplate and an arm guard, sinking into the flesh of a leaguer's shoulder, causing her to drop her blade. She screamed in rage and charged him but was taken out by a small explosive pellet which Dick flicked in her direction.

Another came at him, more calmly. The man cleaved his sword down at Dick who rolled to the side in avoidance. Dick bounced up, blocking a strike with his escrima. Dick tried to jab his opponent with the end of his baton, ready to send a pulse of electricity into the bastard, but he was deadly quick. It was all Dick could do to dodge his blows and attempt offensive strikes of his own. Soon Dick was drenched in sweat, his muscles burning with effort. No matter what evasive measures he took, no matter how close he got, the man met him, blow for blow.

Dick was littered with bruises. Finally, when he was practically backed into a corner, Nightwing caught his lucky break. A strand of lights, knocked down from one of the booths, swung low in the air, about 8 feet of the ground. Praying to every acrobatic act in the known world, Dick launched himself upward, flinging his escrimas into the face of his attacker and grabbing onto the cord, begging it to take his weight. Blessedly, it did and Dick used the extra height and his small distraction to leap onto the shoulders of his attacker. Dick's thighs of steel clamped down on the man's carotid artery and within 10 seconds, the man was sinking to the floor of the pier.

Dick spared a glance up at the roller coaster as he retrieved his escrimas. Nearly all the passengers were off safely, and only one assassin seemed to remain, currently engaged in a battle with Flamebird. The last two assassins eyed Nightwing wearily and he took this opportunity. This time, he charged his opponents, taking a hard offense. He slung two explosives at the heads of the warriors as he ran. When they ducked to avoid, Nightwing skillfully threw a pair of bolos. Smoke cleared to show Nightwing's double duty had paid of. One assassin was crouched on the floor of the boardwalk, struggling uselessly against the strong cord, sword too far away to be of any use. Nightwing ran at the downed but still struggling league member. Nightwing used the man's shoulders as a springboard, snapping one his collarbones. He would not be escaping those cords anytime soon.

Still in the air, Dick whirled to face the final assassin who looked ready to kill (imagine that). His eyes blazed as Nightwing dove toward him, swinging his escrima hard. The murderous fighter raised his sword with both hands, blocking Nightwing' swing, sending a shockwave up Dick's arms. Dick landed on his feet, taking a step back as he shook out his arms. The man circled Dick and he mirrored the assassin. Dick was out of bombs. He had one more batarang, but at this close range it would be ineffective. He still had quite a few smoke pellets but he'd have to be smart about how and when he used them. The man lunged, sword on a deadly collision course for Dick's chest. Dick sprung to the side, falling gracefully into a back hand spring and sticking the landing just as quick. The fighter had yet to swing his sword back toward Nightwing who took this chance to step in real close. Nightwing sent the black clad warrior careening into an ice cream cart with a well placed elbow to the solar plexus, and a swift jab at his nose. Finally, Wally zipped up behind the guy and had him hog tied in a string of shimmery red pennants within the blink of an eye.

Damian leapt from somewhere far above, dragging his victim with him. Wally grinned at the two jet haired boys. "We make a pretty sweet team, I guess. Who's up for funnel cake?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say, other than I hope you like it and I’d like to know what you think! Things are starting to come to a head, my friends!!!


	6. Chapter 6

That night, the boys climbed back in through Dick's bedroom window, tired but pleased with the work they had done that night. All but two of the league members (who had somehow managed to escape) were being shipped to Iron Heights Penitentiary. Standard procedure would have taken the prisoners to the nearest facility- Black Gate, in Gotham- but that would be a dead give away of the goings on in Bludhaven and The Flash (via Kid Flash) knew a guy who owed him a favor. Perhaps this would keep Bats off their trail at least long enough for them to resolve the issue. To be honest, Dick wasn't super confident it would work, but it was all he had.

Damian immediately retired to his room, claiming a desperate need of a shower to, "rid himself of the League stink." Dick couldn't blame the kid. A hot shower sounded pretty damn good right about now. Instead, he played host, ignoring Wally's quips about sharing Dick's bed and hauling a stack of sheets, blankets and pillows to the couch, which folded down into a very comfortable futon bed.

He and Wally chatted for a while, reminiscing on the good old days when they had worked on the Teen Titans together, sharing idle gossip about their former teammates and the goings on of the current Teen Titans.

Around 11:15 Dick called it a night, remembering with no small amount of dismay that he had to be at work at 7:30 for role call before his 10 hour shift. He poked his head into Damian's room. The boy was sitting on his bed, head hung low.

"You okay, bud?" Dick asked, sitting beside his young brother.

"I am uninjured. And you?"

"I'm alright, little man. You know that's not what I was asking, though." Dick nudged the boy gently with his elbow.

"The amusement park. I know it is stupid but I am… saddened by its destruction."

"That's not stupid. That normal. It really is, bud. I'm sad about it too. We had some really fun times there, huh?" Damian nodded shallowly but didn't respond. "I'll tell you what, Damian." Dick said, standing and reaching into his pants pocket for his billfold. Damian watched with confusion as Dick pulled a twenty out of his wallet, stepping over to Damian's desk for a sticky note and a pen. "This is for Pleasure Pier tickets," Dick dictated as he wrote. "That place was a big money maker for the city. They'll rebuild. And when they do, we'll be the first in line." Dick promised, finishing his chicken scrawl note and tacking the bill and the note to the pin board above Damian's desk.

Damian stood to examine the latest addition to his pin board. "Promise?" He questioned, searching his brother.

Dick stuck his hand out, offering it to Damian. "I promise." Damian shook his brother's hand, feeling slightly stupid but mostly relieved. Dick knew how to put him at ease.

Dick patted Damian once before turning to leave. "I gotta go wash the stink off myself. And get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, if you're awake that early."

"See you in the morning." Damian affirmed. If his brother had to work all day and then fight all night, the least Damian could do was make sure his brother didn't have to wake up in the early morning all by himself.

Damian slammed his hand down on his phone when his alarm went off early the next morning. Damian growled at it, just to let it know he was displeased, before trudging out of bed and heading for the kitchen. Dick was already there, stirring what looked to be instant waffle mix. Damian rifled around in the cabinets until he found the waffle iron, plugging it in without a word. He glared at Wally who was still asleep and snoring loudly on the couch.

Dick caught Damian's death stare and chuckled softly. "Let him sleep. One of us might as well get a decent night's sleep. Besides," Dick nodded to the waffle mix. "More for us." Dick left shortly after the waffles had cooked, palming two and grabbing his duty bag on the way out. Damian thought for a moment that Dick looked somewhat ridiculous, shouldering his Bludhaven Police Department duffle, one hand full of waffles.

Wally woke a few hours later and helped himself to a stack of waffles the size of a small toddler. When he was fully fed and alert, Damian handed Wally Dick's laptop- the one Dick used specifically for his Nightwing duties. It had extra layers of security and encryption, a much larger hard drive and better processing speeds, thanks to Barbara's handy work and Tim's tech suggestions.

"Can I hook this up to the TV? It'll be easier to spot things on the larger monitor. Damian nodded, giving Wally the ridiculously long numerical code which served as the laptop password. As Wally set to work hacking security cameras around the city and displaying them on the monitor, Damian closed the blinds to the balcony and retrieved his laptop, prepared to hunker down and complete some schoolwork.

Around 1, Damian had completed all his work for at least the next three days. Wally was still busy switching from camera to camera, watching days worth of feed on extreme fast forward. Feeling useless, Damian did something out of character. "Would you like me to make something for lunch? I was going to prepare myself a sandwich."

Wally put his camera feed on pause. "Nah, I don't want to clear your pantry on the first day. I'll order something, have it delivered. I'll even buy your salad if you're nice."

Damian pulled a face at the young speedster but didn't object. The red head threw his head back and laughed, reaching for his phone and ordering an obscene amount of chicken strips and a large Caesar salad for Damian.

The delivery woman arrived and Wally passed his wallet to Damian absently, eyes glued to the screen. Damian paid the girl, toted the food back to the living room and plopped into Dick's recliner.

Around 3:30 Dick called for an update, claiming he was on his lunch break. Damian was pretty sure he had parked his patrol car in some rarely used parking lot and claimed to be "on scene" taking a report so he could have a few minutes respite. Recalling the past few days, Damian figured that was fair.

Damian put his phone on speaker, repeating Dick's question to the redhead. Wally slid his hands idly along the keyboard, nodding his head. "Hey, Dickie. Yeah, I've scanned the lower west quadrant of the city, and I'm still working my way east. I should have some solid information for you by the time you get off work tonight." Wally began, eyes scanning a map of the city, his eyes alight from hours of intensive analysis.

"What do you have so far?" Dick asked, his voice weary.

"Not a whole lot, my man. I do know for certain that a large number of small boats arrived off a small barrier reef on the south side, near where the blue line runs."

"Specifics?" Dick requested.

"8 mid-sized motorboats- weekend fishers, rich family marina boats, that sort of thing- each carrying about 5 people each. The boats appeared from the direction of the reef three days ago, docked briefly on the rocky shores. The cameras are analogue- not digital- so I really can't tell you much other than the group seems to be both men and women, all wearing black." Wally nodded, as if mentally reviewing a checklist. "Oh. And that little island they came from? Yeah, it's called Fear Cay, so we can be fairly sure it's the League." Wally snorted.

"Yes, my mother has always had a flair for the dramatics."

"So has your Father. And your brother, the Boy Blunder. Runs in the family, I guess," Wally retorted fondly.

"Yeah, like you're so subtle, Wal," Dick muttered from his end of the line.

"I prefer the term 'coy'," Wally shot back, before returning to his run down.

"I was able to follow them into the narrows, via the Blue Line security cameras but they disappeared after that. I'm continuing my search east. I'll let you know if I find anything else."

"Alright. Thanks, Wallace." Dick smiled, pulling the name from their childhood gibes.

"Anytime, Richy Rich." Wally replied in kind. Wally remembered how clever he had thought himself, explaining eloquently to Dick, "Get it, Dick? Richy Rich? Richy, short for Richard. Plus, you were adopted by Wayne, whose name is synonymous with Rich, right? You're Richy Rich!"

"Gah, you're such an idiot." Dick laughed. It was good to laugh after such a grinding few days. And it wasn't even half over, if Talia's ultimatum was to be believed.

"Takes one to know one." Wally laughed back.

"Oh, shit. I gotta take this. Looks like a domestic disturbance." Damian and Wally heard the sirens click on in the background.

"See you tonight." Damian said.

"Yep," Came Dick's hurried reply before the line went dead.

"Well," Wally sighed, stretching as he turned back to the laptop, "back to the grind, I suppose."

At around 6:45, Dick arrived home, tossing his duty bag haphazardly to the floor. "Dude." Wally muttered, leg bouncing nervously at about 60 miles an hour. His eyes were locked on the screen and his eyes scanned back and forth so fast they appeared to be single, blurred line rather than round irises.

"What?" Dick asked, a protein bar halfway to his mouth.

"You should see this. I'm not sure but… It doesn't look good." Dick hurried forward and came to a stop on Wally's left. Damian did the same on his right.

"See this here?" Wally pointed to the screen. It appeared that four or five heavily armed people were carrying something large out of the back of a stereotype van straight out of Law and Order: SVU. An unmarked, white van with no plates. The camera angle switched and clearly showed four League members struggling under the weight of a huge wooden crate. They were headed for the underside of the Avalon Hill Bridge which led from the north east side of Bludhaven into the upper west end of Gotham called the Tricorner.

"Oh, this is seriously not-" but whatever Dick had been about to say was interrupted by a deafening roar. The three young heroes ran to the window in time to see a mushroom cloud the size of a house blaze to life. Dick had no doubt in his mind that the Avalon Hill bridge had just been bombed by four of Talia Al Ghul's lackeys.

"Suit up!" Dick shouted, dashing to his room. Damian felt that this was somewhat unnecessary, as he had already charged to his bedroom to do just that. Seconds later, Dick and Damian burst out of their rooms. Wally had probably already been in his suit for 30 seconds and was bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet.

"Wally I hate to ask but-"

Dick was interrupted by Wally who, anticipating Dick question answered, "Yeah dude, it's fine. We gotta get their quick. Who wants to get on my back?" Wally asked. Damian was about to ask what the hell that meant when realization dawned on him. Wally was going to carry them both to the bridge. It was the most time efficient way to get there, and time was definitely of the essence right now.

"I will…" Damian grumbled, cursing his mother for forcing them into such a ridiculous scenario. Before Damian realized what was happening, the three were speeding off down the road. Buildings, cars, and people were millisecond blurs, hardly distinguishable from one another. Damian's stomach threatened to rebel but he steeled himself, vowing not to let his body get the better of him. Within seconds, Damian was dropped to the pavement, yards away from one of the worst things he'd ever seen.

Damian barely registered Wally hunched over, hands on his knees, panting. Dick tossed the man a couple of protein bars which Wally gratefully accepted and scarfed down.

If last night had been chaos, Damian wasn't sure there was a word that could capture the enormity of the bomb's destruction. A gaping hole dropped pieces of concrete into the water far below, smoking. Cars honked incessantly, their drivers incapacitated or worse. A few cars and one semi-truck teetered dangerously near the edge of the brand new crater. None of the suspender cables had snapped yet but some looked dangerously close to doing so. People screamed. It was horrible. Damian didn't want to know how many lives had already been lost, how many cars and families had plunged into the frigid water too far below to have a chance of survival.

Damian surged back to the present as Nightwing's fingers clasped around his wrist, dragging him onto the bridge. "Come, on!" He shouted, too worried about the the injured to modulate the harshness out of his voice.

Flamebird pulled his arm from Nightwing's finger striped grasp, running of his own volition now. Nervously, he patted a pocket on his upper right arm, where he had slipped the battered batarang which his father had gifted him two days ago. No time to reminisce now. Dick leapt over the cement divider onto the other side of the bridge which carried westbound traffic into Bludhaven from Gotham. A brown sedan wobbled, concrete crumbling underneath it. A mother, outside the car, desperately yanked at the smashed back door, trying to get to her two screaming toddlers inside. Damian threw a packet of quick hardening gel onto one of the back tires, hoping to secure the car long enough for Dick to rescue the kids. Nightwing requested that the woman step aside. "Cover your faces!" He yelled to the children inside, raising an escrima to beat the glass out.

Damian shot a grappling hook at one of the support towers, swinging over the ever widening gap in the road. A truck lay on its roof, flipped after apparently being rear ended. Flamebird slashed off the driver's seat belt with a batarang from his belt, dragging the man out through the truck's smashed windshield. Damian had just laid the unconscious man on a piece of plywood from a lumber truck and was preparing to drag him to the nearest ambulance when a flash of movement and black cloth caught his eye.

A pair of jade green eyes shone from the shadows on the Gotham side of the Avalon bridge. Distractedly, Damian found a dazed but otherwise uninjured man and charged him with the job of dragging the unconscious man to the ambulance, claiming others needed his assistance. The stunned man nodded and said, "Sure, Mr. Flamebird. Whatever you say."

Damian looked over his shoulder. Wally zipped from car to car, searching for injured. Dick was tying a tourniquet around the leg of a terrified looking middle aged woman. Knowing Grayson would be too busy helping the injured to notice his disappearance Damian stalked to where he had seen those unfeeling, cruel eyes. Giving the wreckage a guilty once over, Damian went to confront his mother. This time, he would put an end to his mother's carnage.

Damian followed the tracks his mother had purposely left. They led to the banks of the heavily polluted Gotham harbor, below the very end of the bridge. "Mother!" Damian howled. She stood near the water's edge looking proud of herself.

"I see you've come to your senses!" She exulted, eyes flashing with mirth.

"I came to my senses long ago, Mother. That's why I'm here instead of Gotham." Damian fought back the urge to kick out at her.

"Ah, I see. His poison runs deep in your mind." She analyzed.

Damian grunted, shaking his head. He would not let her worm her way into his head. Not again. "He gives you some semblance of freedom, tells you you're special, that you deserve better. You really thinks he sees something special in you?" His mother goaded on, circling him like a wild dog.

"You're trying to trick me, trying to turn me against him. It won't work, mother. He's the only one who's ever let me think for myself! The only one who hasn't pushed his deluded, power hungry fantasies onto me!"

"Yes," Talia chided, "And look what it has brought you," She motioned carelessly toward the ruined bridge. "Nightly attacks on your city. Lives lost, property destroyed. He claims he cares of family and yet he hides this destruction from the very people who might help you? My love, can't you see? He's deceiving you. Using you."

"I am done feeding into your lies, mother!" Damian tried to block her out, but as always, her deception held the tone of truth. She sprinkled just enough brutal honesty into her lies to make it sound plausible, let her voice dip low as if she really did sympathize with him. Damian knew her tricks but some small part of his brain reasoned she's your mother. She's trying to protect you. That what mothers do.

Wrong. That's what other mothers did. Normal mothers. His had never, nor would she ever. Since the moment Grayson had laid eyes on Damian, he had fought for Damian. When everyone else had agendas for Damian or mistrusted Damian, Grayson had defended him, despite having hardly known him. And when Dick had taken on the role of Batman, theirs had been an equal partnership. Neither Bruce nor Talia nor his Grandfather had ever done so much.

"I am done letting you control me. I will never, never, come back with you. I would rather die!" Damian spat, all his anger and frustration and aggression rushing forth.

His mother was no longer gloating. The glint had left her eyes, leaving only a blank, dead stare, more threatening than anything he had ever seen.

"So be it, Damian. You wish to act like a child? Fine. I will punish you for your insubordination. Tomorrow your city will burn. Your precious 'Nightwing' will perish. I swear it. And you will regret the day you said no to Talia Al Ghul."


	7. Chapter 7

Damian stumbled back up to the bridge, terrified of what was to come. There were still so many injured people but in a moment of weakness, Damian couldn't find a single thing to do to help. He did the best he could to make his way numbly to Nightwing. Even through the mask, Nightwing could see the vacant, shaken expression on Damian's face. He finished bandaging a young man, leaving him to the care of an EMT worker. Dick stooped to meet Damian's eyes but the boy said nothing, nor did he focus on Dick. Nightwing patted Damian's cheeks, hoping to snap the boy out whatever this was, but to no avail. Dick had never seen Damian do anything like this and it was scaring the hell out of him. Unfortunately, they still had hours worth of work on the bridge. There were still too many injured, and too few capable hands to help.

Damian began to shiver without a discernible reason. Dick snatched a blanket from the back of one of the hospital rigs, and dragged Damian over to a reasonably intact car. Dick opened the door of the car and directed Damian into the passenger seat, wrapping the blanket around Damian's shoulders. Nightwing ran a finger across Damian's forehead but received no response. "Alright, buddy, you're going to be okay. I'm gotta-there are a lot of other people here who still need help, but-" Nightwing's voice cracked, before he sniffed and said more evenly. "You're going to be okay. I'll make sure of it. Just hang in there for a little while longer."

Damian wasn't sure how long he sat in the car. Time wasn't registering properly. He knew he should get up. Knew he should help. Knew he was being pathetic and letting his mother get into his head, but he couldn't do anything. His mother was many things, but a liar she was not. She was going to incinerate the only city he had ever loved and kill the closest thing he had to a father. If Bruce and the rest of the batfamily didn't hate him now, they soon would. And then his mother would get what she wanted; him, back in Nanda Parbat, swinging a sword in any direction she bid.

Nightwing returned after some unknowable amount of time. His face was covered in dirt, smeared with sweat and someone else's blood. The Flash appeared just over Dick's shoulder, face flushed. The pair looked incredibly exhausted and careworn. Nightwing seemed to consider his young partner for a moment. "Flamebird?" No response. He leaned closer, clutching Damian's shoulders. "Damian?" He whispered. Nothing.

Dick stood, and with a lurching step, picked up the incapacitated young hero. If Damian had been conscious of his surroundings, he would have been humiliated. Dick trudged along the bridge, Wally falling into step with him. "I have no idea what's wrong with him." Damian heard distantly, as if Dick was talking miles away instead of right over his head.

"Did you see where he went?"

"No. One minute he was next to me helping some woman, the next he had swooped off. I saw him on the Gotham side of the bridge but… He was normal. Helping some guy. The next thing I know, he's like a zombie."

"Poor kid. I have to admit, there was… a lot of carnage. I'm not sure I'll be getting a full night's sleep either. It was like ground zero in there." Wally brushed a hand across the top of his head.

Dick looked down at the boy in his arms. Damian's eyes were partially closed now, and Dick wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Damn it. I'm supposed to be looking out for him. How could I have let him go off on his own? Who knows what he saw, Dick beat himself up. Who was he, to think he could take care of a kid? What had made him think he was up to the task? Had it been a selfish impulse, taking Damian in? A new city, away from his family and friends, facing a broken down city without any help?

Dick shook his head. Damn it. He hadn't even seen Talia and her bullshit was wheedling its way into his head.

"I wish I had my bike. That was poor planning on my part. We can't just waltz through the front door of my apartment like this, though." Dick addressed Wally as the pair made their way slowly to the end of the road.

"I don't have much juice. A short sprint with the two of you, maybe."

"I have a small safe house near by. If we could make it there without being seen…"

Wally nodded, understanding. He popped a compartment in his left glove, a small energy bar of his own formulation rested gloriously under the lid. Wally chewed, hoping this would boost him enough to speed him and his compatriots to the mystery location. Dick pulled up a map on his phone, giving Wally directions as he psyched himself up. He nodded. "Let's do this." He picked up Nightwing who yelped slightly, clutching Damian tighter.

The minute they were through the hidden door, Wally dropped his load, falling to his knees. "Ugh. Wipeout." Wally said, shuddering and collapsing against the wall.

"Shit," Dick cursed. He was a complete failure. He had failed to keep Damian safe and now he had run his only other partner into the ground. Literally. Dick looked around the micro-condo which had a wonderful ocean view. Of his many safe houses, this was his favorite. It had been expensive despite it's lack of square feet, but Dick had dished out the money anyway. It was one of the only apartments he could afford to buy, in terms of buying a space that was rarely used without raising suspicion. Most of the condos in his building were used as getaways for the rich and famous- vacation homes not lived in year round. Neighbors wouldn't wonder why no one ever entered or left the condo. Every once in awhile, he and Star spent a weekend here, just because they could, and because he had to keep up appearances. Sometimes, when his old team mates decided to visit, he'd let them stay here, rather than crowd up his small apartment or rent a hotel.

Dick suddenly remembered the boy in his arms, his fatigued muscles and the man slumped on the floor. Right. Dick planted the now sleeping Damian on the couch, pulling the blanket down around him. Dick rushed to the closet and pulled out a couple of surprisingly comfortable cots, setting them on the floor. With a grunt and a thought to tell Wally to lay off the double cheeseburgers, Dick lugged his longtime friend onto one of the cots, draping a blanket over him as well. The guy would have to shuck off his undoubtedly uncomfortable suit when he woke up. Dick wasn't going anywhere near that. Dick considered the pantry before pulling out a box of Fruit Roll Ups and a large bag of granola. He set them beside Wally's bedroll knowingly.

Dick peeled off his own disgusting uniform, throwing it into the sink to soak with about half a bottle of Dawn soap. Dick decided to take the quickest shower of his life, hopping into the hopelessly small shower. Even with his contortionist tendencies, it was pretty uncomfortable.

Dick jumped out and threw on an ironic Batman logo t-shirt courtesy of a particularly sassy Barbara Gordon one Christmas. When he re-entered the living room, Damian was sitting up, idly sipping a bottle of water. Dick just about buckled at the knees in relief. "Damian!" Dick skidded across the floor on his knees. Add carpet burn to the long list of wonderful things which Dick was feeling.

"Grayson, I-" Damian bit his lip.

"Come here, kiddo." Dick invited, arms spread. Damian shook his head, shame welling up in his chest. "Stop being so stubborn," Dick growled, tugging Damian to the floor with him and wrapping his arms around the young boy. "What happened out there?"

"My mother. She was there. She told me… It doesn't matter what she told me. I let her get the best of me. I-I'm sorry. If you had been in danger I would have been utterly useless. You could have been hurt or… worse," Damian muttered into Dick's collarbone. Despite himself, Damian felt safe as he allowed Dick to hold him. Damian couldn't ever remember being held like this, and he wondered why he had pushed Dick away when he'd tried this same thing so many times before.

"What she said. It matters," Dick murmured, patting him gently before releasing him. "But not because what she said is true- because what she said affected you. Strongly. I've never seen you shut down like that. What did she say?"

"She tried to turn me against you, but I wouldn't let her. But that's not what bothered me. She-she promised to burn the city. To kill you. My mother is many things, Grayson, but a liar she is not. I've never seen her swear on something she didn't follow through on." Damian gritted his teeth, meeting Dick's sad, concerned eyes.

"Hey. She's not the first person who has sworn to kill me. But you know what? I'm still here. I haven't just slid through the last 14 years on my good looks alone." He nudged his brother, trying hard for a grin, "It was about 90% good looks, 8% carney magic and 2% Bat-cultivated talent."

Damian smiled carefully. "You will be okay?"

"We'll be okay," Dick corrected. "Okay, kid, I've got to get at least a few hours, because I still have to go in tomorrow morning. To be honest, I'm surprised they haven't called already." Dick glanced at his watch, and Damian took note of the time as well. Three in the morning. If Dick fell asleep immediately, he'd get maybe three hours of sleep before a ten hour shift, if he was lucky. Damian nodded. Dick had been burning the candle at both ends. It was a wonder he wasn't the one passed out or in a waking coma.

Dick huddled up onto his cot, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. "Don't worry, bud." He muttered into his pillow, eyes fluttering shut of their own accord.

When Damian next woke, Wally had his hand all the way into the bag of granola, the floor around him littered with the shiny wrappers of about 12 felled Fruit Roll Ups.

"Dick left about three hours ago. He said to tell you that if we're going to go back to the apartment we need to go through the tunnel system- he said you'd know what that meant."

Damian nodded. He wasn't sure how he would tolerate standing idly by in the apartment all day waiting for his mother to attack his home or his brother but he didn't have much of a choice. After a hearty breakfast of non perishables, Damian and Wally rummaged through the drawers of a small dresser, searching for clothes that they could trudge home in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Damian had a little shut down. I think that's fair. I've honestly never read or seen a hero figure do this and I think it's kind of unrealistic. Their lives are ridiculously complicated and messy and scary. And yeah, the fact that they soldier on despite everything is part of what makes them heroic, but also, like… They're human. I think they're allowed to have vulnerabilities and little moments of freak out.
> 
> I dunno. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Also I’m SOOOOO sorry that I haven’t updated in a while. I’m terrible but I’m really busy with college.


	8. Chapter 8

Besides the whole 'Damian's mom is plotting to kill me' thing, Dick was having a good day. Which made him even more nervous about the whole murder problem looming over his head like an over-ripe rain cloud. He worked a 12 hour shift, rather than a 10 hour, since all the precincts were beefing up police presence after the bridge bombing.

At any rate, the whole day was eerily quiet. Maybe it was the unnaturally hot autumn day, the shining sun and the chirping birds. Maybe it was the threat of terrorism looming over the city. Dick spent the day driving around in his patrol car, looking out for crimes that weren't occurring. He hadn't even found a single person speeding or floating a stop sign.

However, as the sun set low, Dick couldn't stop his thoughts from darkening, nor his mood from souring. Who was Talia to come in and ruin the good thing they had going? She hadn't bothered to show up when Bruce had supposedly died, leaving the cowl to Dick himself. What made this any different? Because Damian had chosen it? Because they were both enjoying themselves?

Dick swore softly to himself as he rode through the streets of Bludhaven after his shift. He was about to head home when something occurred to him. Mindful of the battle to come, Dick decided to make a pit stop at one of his many heavily stocked "safety closets" on the way home. He filled his saddle bags with all sorts of helpful items, determining to shove them all in his duty bag for the transport back up to the loft where Damian and Wally had been anxiously waiting all day.

Dick also stopped and grabbed take out Thai food for dinner. He rode up the elevator with his duffle full of high grade Bat-toys and a paper sack of dinner, trying to act like today was just a normal day rather than the possible end of his all-time favorite partnership. God, when had he gotten so pessimistic and cynical? He was supposed to be the bright and shiny one in the family.

Dick watched Damian jump off his bed, jogging casually up to Grayson as he exited the elevator. "Anything?" Damian asked gruffly.

"Yeah, some awesome Pad Thai noodles and spring rolls," Dick replied lightly. Wally's head perked up from where he was on the couch, Dick's laptop resting on his bony knee.

"Come here, Wal. I got an extra order of the spring rolls just for you," Dick laughed. Wally strolled over and fist bumped Dick.

"I meant," Damian stamped his foot in impatience, "have you heard anything from my mother?" Despite his carefully composed face, Damian buzzed with nervous energy, and he knew Dick knew. Which was very irritating.

"No. Everything was quiet."

"Really quiet," Wally confirmed, pointing to the laptop from which he had been monitoring the city since he and Damian had arrived at the apartment that morning.

"A calm before the storm," Damian popped the knuckles of his fists even as Dick placed chopsticks and a cardboard box before him. "I'm not hungry."

"Yeah, me neither. Eat anyway. We know Talia is going to attack. We might as well be strong and ready," Dick reasoned, spearing some bean sprouts between his chopsticks and chewing. Apparently the impending doom had not riled Wally's stomach because he sucked down food like it was going out of style. Damian took half hearted bites of his food and Dick only managed to eat a small portion of his before it started to taste like ash in his mouth.

"If we only knew where she was striking from. Maybe we could get the upper hand, take them by surprise," Wally ruminated around a mouthful of pork and noodles.

Apparently, this triggered some response in Damian's brain, because his eyes widened impossibly as he slammed his cheap wooden chopsticks against the counter. "Of course!" He yelled excitedly.

"What, Damian? Share with the class!" Dick commanded, walking around the counter to Damian's side.

"I've been trying to figure out where my mother wanted me to meet her. I-I think I might know." For the first time in a few days, his eyes glittered with hope. Just that little bit of optimism sent a jolt through Dick. What had he been doing earlier, letting dark thoughts get the best of him?

"The shore where Mother left me with Father, she told me it was time I spent time with him. It's on the very outskirts of Gotham's city limits, right on the border of Bludhaven." Damian sounded so confident, Dick almost didn't question it. Almost.

"A bit on the nose, isn't it?" Dick asked.

Damian raised an eyebrow. "This is the woman who seduced The Batman just to get her father's attention. Just to prove she could." Damian spat, as if the thought brought an acrid taste to his tongue. Dick didn't blame him. Just the thought gave him the heebie jeebies. Yuck.

"Also, the woman who brought almost forty assassins into Bludhaven from Fear Cay, just to tell her kid she disapproved of his life choices," Wally reminded helpfully.

Dick threw his hands up in surrender. "Alright. Rocky shoreline it is. Wally, I need you to stay here, monitor the city. We know Talia is going to strike and the city needs someone here to defend it," Dick gave him a resigned but confident smile.

"You can count on me, Dick." Wally smiled. He looked a little nervous but Dick wasn't worried. Wally was an excellent fighter. He'd seen more than his fair share of apocalypses.

"I know. I'm leaving the city in good hands." Dick turned to Damian. "Meanwhile, you and I will go face your mother. We can save the city as many times as we want, fight off her followers, but unless we neutralize her the fighting won't ever stop."

"Yes. If we take her out, her followers will abandon the city." Damian agreed.

Dick and Damian rode the older man's motorcycle to the edge of town, away from prying eyes but still far from where Damian was sure his mother lay in wait. Damian jumped off the bike, shedding civilian clothes. When he finished, he threw his clothes onto the seat of the motorcycle, where Dick's clothes were similarly strewn.

Dick dug into the saddlebags of his bike. Damian watched with consternation as his eldest brother strapped two tactical belts across his chest in the shape of an x, not unlike Red Robin's costume. He plastered his blue eye mask onto his face. It was not Richard, his adoptive brother who passed him two extra tactical belts for the upcoming fight, but Nightwing, his partner who had endured perhaps one too many wars. Still, Nightwing gave him a bracing smile as Damian strapped the belts across his chest identically.

Nightwing reached out and adjusted the belts, arranging them so Flamebird's ruby red emblem could still be seen, cinching the belts tighter so they would stay in place. Damian mutely did the same for Nightwing. Damian knew what this was: a signal to the enemy. They were proud to wear the Nightwing and Flamebird emblems and they would fight for their right to don them. It was a small act of defiance but Damian liked that. He was all about defiance, big or small.

With a nod to his partner, Damian popped open the compartment beneath his seat, obtaining his backpack from within. Damian unzipped it and withdrew his sword-the one which had been gifted to him by his mother long ago, and which he had used when he first wore the Robin mantle. Nightwing looked like he wanted to object, be he only slipped his escrima sticks into the holsters on his back. Dick was no fan of swords but he understood that it was necessary. Damian was a master swordsman and it wasn't as if Talia was going to play fair with them just because they were young or had inferior weapons.

Nightwing thumbed a button on his bike which instantly shifted colors from a metallic black to a more muted matte finish, emblazoned with the bright blue Nightwing symbol. With that, the brothers clambered onto the motorcycle and headed east.

Talia was waiting for them. She was sitting on a large, black rock, sharpening her sword with a whet stone. Dick fought the urge to roll his eyes despite the impending battle. She really was a drama queen. Everything she did was for effect. To send a message. Her message? I'm not afraid of you, but you should be afraid of me. Dick parked the motorcycle. He set his eyes on Damian's mother. From here on out, he couldn't let his guard down, not even a little. Dick forced his shoulders to remain loose, untensed.

"I assume that by bringing this circus clown along, you have made your decision, Damian?" Talia addressed the boy on Dick's right. "Or did you bring him as a peace offering?" Her lips curled up at the corners, flashing white teeth bared in a snarl. Damian drew his sword in answer. Talia's face hardened further (was that even possible?). "Very well." She snapped her fingers. From the shadows, five figures descended on the boys but they didn't seem interested in Nightwing. Despite Damian's excellent reflexes, the five were too much for him at such close distance, with no time to draw a weapon. Nightwing spared a flick of a glance toward his brother, knowing he couldn't afford to let his eyes off Talia.

"Unhand me, you cowards! Face me in a real fight!" Flamebird yowled as he struggled, trying to prevent them from binding his hands.

"It is unfortunate that I was forced to do this, my love, but it is necessary. Perhaps with Nightwing gone, you will be more compliant." She leveled her sword at Nightwing.

"No!" Flamebird yelled, but Nightwing could no longer spare his partner any passing thoughts. Damian would have to fight his own battle, as would Dick.

Nightwing let Talia make the first move. With a sword, her reach was twice what his was. He would have to disarm her before he could get close enough for a decent offense- his suit was bulletproof (well, mostly) but it definitely wasn't blade proof. Especially not three-feet-of-honed-steel proof.

Talia knew what he was up to, and she wasn't about to play into his game. What he needed to do was agitate her, anger her enough to forget herself and charge him. Dick didn't care what she said. He saw anger burning behind her jade eyes.

"Talia, I'm sure in your warped, twisted reality, you think you really care for Damian," Nightwing started, letting his own anger at the mistreatment of Damian enter the edge of his voice. "The thing is, you never have and probably never will. Not in any way that counts."

Talia swished her sword in irritation. It was a small flick, hardly noticeable but it spoke volumes to Dick. You're getting to her. Keep going. The voice in his mind almost sounded like Bruce, but Dick brushed off that piece of psychoanalysis for another time. "Everything you've 'done for him' has been self service. You wouldn't know motherly love if it hit you in the face."

"Enough," she snarled, taking a few steps closer.

"I think so too, Talia. Enough is enough. Enough of you and your sick little game of house. Enough of Bruce's and your inability to treat a kid like a kid. Enough of Damian being everybody's damned whipping boy. I'm the only one who's ever raised Damian. And I'm the only one who ever will." Dick spared a quick mental apology to Alfred, who had definitely had an important and loving role in Damian's life.

With that, she let out a feral growl and charged him, blade swinging downward at his head. Damn. Not the proper angle for a disarm. He'd have to engage. Lightning fast, Dick drew his escrimas, throwing them in an x above his head. The second her blade hit his escrimas he tensed his muscles, and pushed upward from his knees and elbows, absorbing the impact. He tried to catch her blade on one of the grooves of his escrimas, but to no avail. Instead, he flicked her blade aside as far as he could and somersaulted between her legs, popping up behind her and kicking her in the small of the back.

It was all he had time to do before her balance was regained and her focus once again drilled into him. She slashed at his feet. He jumped over her gleaming blade. She hacked at his neck, but he ducked. It became a deadly dance. When he could, Nightwing kicked out at her, or swung with his escrimas but she dodged as artfully as he. Every once in awhile Nightwing would reach into one of the pouches of his cross body belts, flinging flash-bang bombs or sending batarangs flying toward Talia. They didn't do him much good. She either jumped out of the way or deflected with her sword. Every once in awhile they allowed just enough distraction for Dick to get in a good foot strike or punch but she always came right back at him.

Dick wasn't sure how long this went on, but he knew he had to end it soon. His body was slowly wearing down, and he was covered in scratches and scrapes, evidence of times he had been just a bit too slow. Talia too was littered with bruises, but it wasn't enough.

Talia hacked at his rib cage and Dick saw a small opening. He bent his knees and pushed off the ground for all he was worth, knees meeting his chest at the arc of his lunge. When Talia's blade met the spot it would have connected with Dick's chest, in instead hit empty air. Poised in the air, Dick let his feet drop onto her blade, which clattered out of her hand at his added weight. Though the fight was far from over, it was at least a little more fair.

Talia released her frustrations to the sky in a ferocious roar, slipping a small knife from her belt. Reach shortened considerably, it was Talia's turn to duck and weave under Nightwing's escrima attacks as he swung them at her, jabbed at her in hopes of using their electrical charge to incapacitate her. Talia threw her knife toward his face and Nightwing executed a hasty back handspring, putting distance between them and ducking under the blade in one move. Before he had even landed, he felt a sharp pain as something embedded itself in his ankle. Shit.

He stuck his landing, just barely, and it took all of his willpower to bear any weight on the ankle which a shuriken now protruded from. Dick couldn't risk bending down to yank it out, and he wasn't sure he had the grit to, anyway. Talia smiled coldly at him, advancing forward slowly. "I admit. You lasted longer than I would have imagined," She sneered.

Ha, no. Dick was not going down that easy. He allowed her to take a few steps closer though, and he shifted posture, allowing her to think he was favoring his ankle more than he really was. The pain was searing up his leg but it wouldn't stop him. Not immediately, anyway. Dick had a wildly high pain tolerance (he once broke his ankle mid performance and finished the act anyway, when he had lived with his parents in a circus) and his body was pumping adrenaline like nobody's business. When she was about five feet away, Nightwing made his move.

Nightwing lobbed one of his escrimas at Talia's abdomen. She moved to block it which gave Dick the opportunity he needed. Bounding forward, he kicked off the ground hard, his last escrima gripped tightly in his left hand. He rocketed high into the air in an arc, as if we were approaching a gymnastics vaulting board. While his right hand thrusted off her left shoulder, his left hand hooked an unforgiving escrima under her chin. Her head rocked back and her body followed, falling to the ground. Dick knew his ankle couldn't take another landing, so he dove as far as he could from his opponent, tucking into a roll to lessen his own impact.

Dick's usually graceful dive-roll ended in an awkward sprawl, but when he glanced over to where he had left Talia, he saw her lying there, unmoving on the black rock. Her breathing was fast and slightly labored, but she looked fine. Besides being completely unconscious. Dick was about to heave himself up and look toward Damian when out of nowhere, a shimmering sword blade sank toward him. Dick knew he was doomed. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He should have jumped up faster. He should have expected this. He should have told Damian he loved him before they had come out here to fight. He should have done so many things.

Dick tried to jerk out of the way but only managed a few inches. The blade sunk in between two of his ribs. Dick lost any coherent thought as his vision dimmed and his body screamed with pain. Or maybe it was him screaming. He wasn't sure. Nightwing tried not to jerk but he could hardly control his muscles as they clenched and fired, trying desperately to rid him of the mind numbing pain. With the last bit of strength he had, he pressed a button on his right wrist, activating a distress beacon and hoping someone would find them in time.

Nightwing's last conscious thought was of Damian. Dick had no way of knowing if the boy was safe, or even still alive and he burned with regret. He couldn't claim to have taken care of Damian any more than Talia could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think of the latest fight scene!


	9. Chapter 9

Flamebird's heart raced in his chest. He should have expected his mother to do something like this. Now he was on his knees, divested of his sword and belts, at the mercy of five of his mother's pathetic lap dogs. He informed them, in his most choice words what he thought of them, but they only regarded him with silent eyes before turning to watch the fight.

Even burning with worry for his brother, Damian had to admit it was an excellent fight to watch. Nightwing moved with such skill and fluidity, Damian wondered if he'd ever seen such a beautiful fight sequence. If it weren't for the occasional hisses of pain or grunts of frustration, it could almost have been an elaborately choreographed scene. He watched with a mixture of horror and awe as his adoptive brother and blood mother fought ruthlessly.

His mother was pulling out all the stops, a determined grit sinking into the set of her shoulders. Flamebird smiled a wan sort of smirk. His mother had been expecting an easy fight. And that, Damian hoped, would be her ultimate undoing. That had always been one of Nightwing's greatest asset- his ability to entice others to underestimate him, lull them into a false sense of security. His slender build and cheeky wisecracks hid a fierce strength, incredible endurance and sharp mind.

Unfortunately, as the fight wore on, Flamebird could see his brother's stamina slowly leach away. Damian had to find a way to free himself of his bindings and his captors and get to Nightwing. Flamebird studied his captors. Judging by their uniforms and lack of medals, they were low ranking henchman. She had probably sent all her best people to terrorize the city. Which was good for him but bad for Wally and the citizens of Bludhaven. Another advantage was that all of his captors were watching the fight with rapt attention, hardly paying mind to him.

If there was anything he hated, it was being ignored and underestimated. He was a threat and they were going to learn that. The hard way. Damian scanned the area. He would need to plan this carefully, because he would only have one chance to make his escape and it needed to be done with the utmost precision. Which was his specialty. His sword and belts lay in a pile about five feet away, next to the guard farthest from him. Two stood directly behind him, one stood to his left and two more stood to the right. Each were armed as all fully fledged League members were- full body armor, a black hood, a sword hanging from their belt with various knives, throwing stars, and other goodies packed into their slightly cumbersome outfits. It was what he liked the least about the League and what gave he and Nightwing the slight advantage; Flamebird and Nightwing were not weighted down by bulky armor and had better range of motion because of it.

Apparently the gods were on his side, because each of the assassins had sheathed their swords and only two had even bothered to keep a single hand on the pommels of their swords. Damian shifted slowly, bringing his feet directly beneath him in an awkward squat instead of kneeling. The idiot guards took no notice. With a final glance at Nightwing, Flamebird jumped upward, dragging his arms forward and sliding his legs into the small gap between his arms as he head butted the nearest guard in the chin with the back of his oh-so-hard head.

The guard fell to the ground. His closest comrade drew his sword and slashed at Damian shallowly. They must have had orders not to kill Damian, which would only add to his advantage. The next time the man jabbed at Flamebird, Damian thrust his bound wrists forward, pulling them as far apart as he could manage. The blade sliced cleanly through his bindings; gloves and bracers protecting him from injury. Damian kicked the stunned looking guard hard in the crotch and snatched his sword from him, whirling to face the other three.

They backed up a little, nervous. Damian exploited this weakness and produced a menacing growl, slashing quickly and confidently. The three backed up further and one tripped over his pile of confiscated belongings. The guard now on the floor made the mistake of rolling over and trying to crawl away. Damian almost felt bad for dragging his sword along the back of the man's leg, hamstringing him. The guy would never walk without a limp again.

Flamebird crouched low and retrieved his own sword, twirling both blades in a deadly harmony, and stalking toward the final two guards. One had apparently decided to grow a spine and she charged. It would have been easy for Damian to allow the woman to skewer herself on one of Damian's swords, but he settled for sending a crushing blow to the girl's rib cage with the flat of his sword.

The young hero approached the final guard, leaping high into the air in an aerial flip that would have made Nightwing proud. As Flamebird stretched out to stick his landing, he slammed the butt of his sword into the top of his final opponent's head. The guy dropped like a rock.

Damian grunted in triumph and spun to check on Nightwing's progress. What he saw sent a chill down his back. The guard he had previously kicked in the crotch and disarmed gripped one of his fallen comrades swords in both hands. The last ten inches of his sword were sunk into the eerily still body of Nightwing. Talia lay feet away, but Damian could see her chest moving.

Damian's blood boiled even as a chill of despair clung to his heart. Flamebird dropped his swords, reached into the pocket on his left arm and pulled out the only batarang his captors had failed to find on him- the one his father had gifted to him. Damian gripped it tightly and charged the man still standing triumphantly over Nightwing's prone form. Damian sunk the blade through a chink in the armor of the soon to be sorry warrior. The man gasped and spluttered as he stumbled away. The injury wouldn't kill him but it would hurt like hell, which Damian reveled in.

Flamebird advanced on the man, kicking him in the chest brutally, knocking him the the floor. Kneeling on his chest, Flamebird ripped the hood from the man's face. He had blond hair and blue eyes. His mouth gasped like a fish out of water. Damian punched the man's nose once, twice, three times for good measure. Damian staggered to a standing position, heaving in breaths of air.

Remembering himself and his dying brother, Damian ran back to Nightwing. A quick check of pulse indicated that Dick was still alive for the time being. Dick looked awful. He was too pale and his breath was coming in short, shallow bursts. His body was covered in oozing cuts and the sword still stuck out of his chest sickeningly. Damian's stomach rebelled and he crawled away, spitting and wretching. When he was finally able to control himself again, Damian rushed toward his tactical belts, dragging them toward Nightwing.

His fingers shook so hard he could hardly open the pouches but he managed to pull free a few packages of gauze and medical tape. The young boy's mind raced. He was panicking for the first time in his life. He had to pack the bleeding wound with gauze but he couldn't do that without removing the blade. Even if he managed to cleanly pull the blade from Dick's chest, he'd then have to pack the wound tightly enough to ensure that Dick would be stable enough to transport. Damian wasn't even sure he had enough gauze to do that. And even if he did, how the hell was Damian supposed to transport Dick? They were miles from the nearest hospital and Damian wasn't sure he was strong enough to even drag his brother toward the motorcycle, let alone lift him onto it and somehow manage to keep him on as he rode to the nearest hospital. And then what? They were dressed in full costume.

Damian had just started to hyperventilate when he heard a sound he had never been so happy to hear in his life: the unmistakable whir of the Batplane's engines. Hot air whipped his hair. Damian huddled over Dick, trying to keep the dirt and small rocks which were flying around him from causing anymore damage to his brother. The jet hovered and the looming form of his father dropped toward him. It was the first time all week he had been happy to see a figure clad in black.

His father's face was pinched into a pained grimace. The Batman immediately knelt at Dick's side. "Move, Damian," Batman ordered, but his voice wasn't angry. It was scared. For once in his life, Damian saw fear in his father's eyes. Batman went straight to work. He pressed a button and a hatch in the bottom of the plane opened up, lowering a wench and a basket, much like set ups used by Search and Rescue helicopter teams. "Get the backboard!" Batman commanded. Damian rushed to comply. By the time he had dragged the orange board back to Nightwing and Batman, the bottom half of the sword which had previously been sticking out of Dick's chest had been severed off. Only a piece of the blade remained embedded in between two of Nightwing's lower ribs.

Batman had stabilized that as well, packing around the blade with gauze and securing everything with lots of medical tape. Damian went to the other side of Dick, dragging the backboard with him. With help from his father, they lifted up Dick's uninjured left side and slid the orange plastic board underneath his body. They strapped him hastily in with Velcro and then lifted at each end- Batman at Nightwing's head and Flamebird at his feet- keeping the injured and now moaning man level.

They loaded Dick into the basket and winched him into the cargo bay of the small plane before leaping into their seats, Batman in driver's spot, Flamebird in the copilot's chair. Batman pressed a few buttons before racing toward Gotham. Damian thought he saw his father drop a small load of knock-out gas pellets onto the figures below.

It was a short but emotionally charged ride to The Cave. The ride couldn't have been more than six minutes but it felt like hours. Every time Grayson gasped or groaned in pain the air grew a little tenser.

Alfred was waiting for them in the cave, a gurney at the ready, a surgeon's gown drawn hastily about him. Clearly, Batman had given him a nonverbal signal that his medical expertise would be needed. They loaded Dick onto the gurney which Bruce pushed at a full run into the small medical suite on the outer edge of The Cave.

Bruce ripped the cowl off his head and began unstrapping Nightwing from the board, peeling off Dick's ruined suit. Alfred hurried about the small room gathering supplies as he gave Bruce a report, "Red Robin made it into the city and informed me that he and The Flash are gathering up the few remaining of Talia's numbers and are rounding up those previously dealt with by young Master Wally. Miss Gordon is enroute to the location you geotagged. Jason has alerted the Bludhaven mayor and police commissioner of the current state of things and is enroute to help who he can."

"Yes, yes, that's fine, Alfred. They can handle themselves. Let's focus on Dick."

"Yes, let's." Alfred agreed. Damian slumped against the wall as he watched Alfred and his father work to save Grayson. He was suddenly exhausted but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He had failed to do the one thing a partner was supposed to do; he had failed to watch Nightwing's back and now Dick was suffering for Damian's mistake.


	10. Chapter 10

Hours later the maids of Wayne Manor were given the week off by a very distraught looking Bruce Wayne. The tabloids would be abuzz soon with wild rumors about why, if Bruce didn't get in front of this. He set up a press release for in a few hours time.

Now, he was restlessly waiting in the small sitting room off of Dick's childhood bedroom, trying to ignore the nervous chatter and the concerned glances flitting around the room. Barbara sat on a small love seat with Starfire, saying soothing things in a strangled voice as Starfire crushed her hand in worry. Jason, Tim and Wally sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, trying to make stilted conversation and swapping stories about their version of what had happened hours before. Damian stood by the window, clutching the batarang that Barbara had retrieved for him, when she had gone to apprehend Talia and her five League members. While the five assassins had been there, still knocked out from the gas pellets, Talia had disappeared without a trace.

Bruce stood, glancing at Dick's bedroom door, willing Alfred to come out and inform them that Dick was awake. Nothing happened. Instead, Bruce walked to the window where his youngest son stood.

Bruce placed a gentle hand on Damian's shoulder and the young boy flinched. "Damian. Come sit down with us." Bruce offered gently. He knew Damian expected him to be mad- and at first, he had been. Now, though, he was just glad to two young men were alive.

Damian shook his head, fingers digging further into the bat shaped throwing blade. "Starfire already asked me to come sit by her but…" Damian shook his head again, lost in his thoughts. "Why would she do that? I am responsible for- for Grayson's current situation."

Bruce's frown deepend. Apparently he had passed down his own pathological urge to take on faults that were not his. "Damian, I won't say that I'm pleased with what occurred or how you two chose to deal with it, but it's not your fault. And Dick will tell you the same thing."

Damian looked up at him, eyes slightly wide. He nodded mutely and allowed Bruce to steer him toward the group of others. He took a deep breath and shuffled toward Starfire who looked up with watery, jewel bright eyes. "I'm sorry about Grayson." He murmured around the lump in his throat.

Starfire gave him small but very sweet smile. She released Barbara's hand (who was relieved that her circulation seemed intact) and placed a gentle hand on Damian's cheek. "Do not be sorry, Damian. You were very brave and I am glad that you are safe."

The grand wooden door leading to Dick's bedroom opened and all eyes swiveled to Alfred who was very quietly shutting the door. "Master Dick awoke very briefly. He is stable but in no condition to visit at this time. I expect by morning I can allow you all to go in and see him."

The group let out a unanimous groan of frustration and Bruce murmured something about everyone being welcome to spend the night in the large manor. Bruce then led Tim, Damian, and Barbara to the press conference he was holding on the front steps of the manor, playing the dutiful family and family friend respectively.

The story was this: Dick, first adoptive son of Bruce Wayne and current resident/police officer of Bludhaven, had been on his way to Gotham for a well earned weekend off. When he had reached the outer edge of Gotham, a truck driver had accidentally run a red light, colliding into Dick's motorcycle. Dick had been rushed to an undisclosed hospital and was currently stable and expected to make a full recovery. His place of business had been notified of the accident and the family would appreciate privacy as they helped Dick through his recovery process.

Camera flashes clicked and blinked as reporters scrambled to ask their questions. Bruce excused himself and the others and they re-entered the house, leaving security to herd out the bloodthirsty 'journalists' hunting for a juicy sound bite. Though Bruce had opened up rooms enough for each of the young heroes, no one made any move to go to bed. They sat in the formal sitting room downstairs, Alfred among them aside from his occasional trips to Dick's room to check on him. The family stayed like that all night, dozing fitfully when they could and muttering prayers of healing when they couldn't.

Morning came and went. Then, sometime after Alfred had brought in a platter of sandwiches for lunch, the butler marched back in smilingly. "Master Dick is awake and insists that he see everyone." A general current of good cheer and "Thank God"s flowed amongst the group but Alfred held up a hand, indicating that there was more. "However, I think it best to visit in ones and twos. I really would rather not have him over excited. The young Master has a tendency of overestimating his ability to recover." Alfred and Bruce smirked fondly, no doubt remembering the many times of Dick's childhood when the bouncy young boy had busted stitches or re-sprained ankles.

Bruce grudgingly let Damian and Starfire go first, under the condition that he was allowed to go second and by himself.

When Damian and Starfire stepped through the door, they saw Dick propped up against a mountain of pillows, and piled under comforters. Starfire hurtled through the air toward him, stopping jerkily by his side and bending down to give him a very gentle hug.

"Hi, beautiful," Dick managed in between her frenzied pecks on his cheeks, forehead and lips. When she finally pulled back Dick grinned sheepishly. "Sorry I forgot to call. Busy day at the office."

Starfire rolled her eyes, smacking his hand lightly before bringing it to her lips. "Honestly, Richard, I was worried sick. When they called me and told me what happened…" Her eyes welled up with tears and a stab of guilt pierced his heart. It was definitely worse than being stabbed through with a sword, and he could now testify to as much with personal experience.

"Hey, don't cry." Dick stretched his hand, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Look at me. A few weeks of house arrest and physical therapy and I'll be good as new." Starfire nodded silently, leaning into the hand which pressed against her cheek. "Besides," Dick smiled goofily, "Now I'll have another 'sexy scar'."

Starfire's eyes widened in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing. "I-I never said… I do not think your scars are sexy." Starfire whispered louder than she thought.

Dick laughed and then groaned slightly, clutching at his side. Still, he smiled again and said, "You're such a liar."

Damian continued to stand by the door, shifting nervously and wondering if he should leave the room to give them more space. The movement caught Dick's eyes which lit up as they fell upon the youngest Wayne. "Damian. Thank God you're okay. C'mere." Dick motioned, patting the bed opposite the side where Starfire still stood, holding one of his hands.

Damian did as Grayson said, standing on the other side of the bed. "You are okay, right?" Dick asked him, stretching out his hand. He couldn't quite reach Damian so he requested, "Come on. Sit on the bed for a minute." Damian climbed up, sitting with his legs crossed. He wasn't sure why but he was nervous and antsy.

"I am sorry you got hurt. I should have been paying more attention," Damian averted his eyes, fiddling with the fringe on a pillow.

"Damian." Dick breathed, sounding tired and distressed. Damian looked up to see concern in Dick's bright blue eyes. "Geez, kiddo. It's not your fault. No, seriously, listen to me. It was not your fault." Blue eyes bored into green ones.

Damian decided to believe him and a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. "Still. I am sorry you were hurt."

"Better me than you, bud." Dick said seriously. Starfire nodded in agreement. "Oh, hey. You never opened your birthday present from me."

Damian studied Dick in confusion, wondering if this was some type of joke. His brother had just been impaled with a sword and he was talking about birthday presents. "Star, could you reach around the bedside table? There should be a red package...Yep, that's the one. Thanks, dear." Dick smiled at Starfire, passing the box to Damian who looked startled.

"I-" Damian was at a loss for words.

"I asked Alfred to see if Wally would go pick it up last night." Damian vaguely recalled Wally announcing he was going out on a food run after having a brief conversation with Alfred. "Go on. Open it."

The package was about a foot high and probably just as wide, wrapped in bright red paper with a tasteful black bow on the top. The red was the exact shade of red of his Flamebird emblem. Damian ripped away the paper slowly, sliding the lid off and peering over the rim. Tissue paper was wound around what looked like a couple of books. Tearing the paper off, Damian was astounded to see a pad of high quality paper and a rather nice set of drawing pencils.

Damian sat, opened mouth and staring at Dick who merely grinned and said, "What? I have eyes. I saw those paintings in your room, the sketches on your pin board. They're really good." Damian had always loved drawing but his mother had found it a skill unworthy of his time and talents. If you couldn't kill anybody with it, it wasn't worth her time. "There's more. Go on."

Damian peered back into the box, sifting through even more tissue paper. Inside was a small pet basket, lined with soft fabric. The name "Pennyworth" was stitched across the front. "There's a scratching post at home, too, but it was much harder to wrap." Dick smiled. "Maybe that will keep your cat from scratching up my couch."

Damian scoffed. "I doubt it. Alfred has very refined tastes." Dick rolled his eyes good naturedly and Damian set down his presents. "Thank you, Grayson. These are...very well thought out. I will put them to good use."

"I know you will."

"We should let the others come and visit." Damian sighed. He didn't really want to leave.

"Okay. You come back when they're done, if you want. We can… watch TV or something." Dick ruffled Damian's hair and squeezed Star's hand. When they were almost out the door Dick called, "Love you Star. Love you, Dami."

Starfire smiled and easily replied in kind. Then she looked to Damian and winked at him, nodding toward Dick. "I love you too, Grayson."

Bruce came in next by himself and Dick tried to mentally prepare himself for the verbal knock down he was about to receive. His father pulled up a chair, dragging it to the side of the bed. He studied his eldest but said nothing.

Not a fan of silence, Dick said, "Thanks for coming to get us. It wasn't fair, me keeping you out of the loop and then calling the way I did."

"I'm not here to chew you out, Dick." Bruce assured.

"Oh, uh… You're not?"

"No, that can wait a couple weeks," Bruce smirked.

"Sweet. Can't wait." Dick stared at his hands.

"Look-" Bruce said, at the same time Dick said, "Hey, listen-"

Dick grimaced awkwardly. "You first."

Bruce nodded his thanks. "Look. I'm upset that you didn't come to me about Talia, but I'm more upset that you felt like you needed to hide it from me. That said," Bruce sighed as if he'd rather not say what he was going to say, "I don't entirely blame the two of you. And… all things considered… You did alright."

"Uh, thanks?"

"I'm being serious, Dick. Not many people could have done what you did, fought Talia and beaten her. Plus, everything before that- working all day and defending the city by night, bringing in Wally to help you out. You did well."

Dick nodded awkwardly, unused to praise. "Thanks."

"Most importantly, Dick, you kept Damian safe. Thank you for that."

"I'm just doing what you would have done." Dick muttered sheepishly.

"All that aside- you scared the shit out of me." Bruce leaned forward eyes knit together in worry. "God, I will never forget seeing you like that. If Alfred hadn't been able to…" Bruce shook his head, twining his fingers together.

"Sorry, dad." Dick said, genuinely apologetic. His father had seen enough death to drive a person crazy. He hated to be the cause of anymore grief.

"You just rest up, okay?" He stood and patted Dick's knee. "You and Damian will be staying here for the week, so Alfred can look after you and I can assess where Damian is in his training."

"Sounds fair." Dick nodded.

"Glad you're okay, son." Bruce said finally, exiting the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next story will probably be coming out around Christmas break time. In the mean time, please tell me what you liked (or didn’t like) about this story! Or maybe what you’d like to see in the next one!  
> Thanks so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a reminder, this is the second story of a series, so be sure to read the first story, Nightwing and Flamebird, if you haven’t!
> 
> Also, I realize that this chapter is basically just plotless fluff but I like plotless fluff. Also, the hammer will drop soon so enjoy the fluff while you still can.


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